Mutilation
by Trygvasson
Summary: After the Battle in New York, the Avengers discover exactly what happened to Loki and why, and it's definitely not pretty. Definitely Whump. M for violence and trauma.
1. Chapter 1

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I'm back to beat up Loki again, who is still the property of Marvel, not me, but whatever. Sorry. It's just too easy.**

Thor waited with the rest of the Avengers, ready to strike, watching as his brother gathered his strength to roll out of the smashed hole the Hulk had pounded him into. Loki looked up at them with a look of uncomprehending anger...and fear. " _KILL ME, THOR_!" he screamed. He made no effort at all to get up, merely raised a bloody arm to hurl a spell at them, a spell that fizzled out less than an inch from his trembling fingers.

"Loki, just _stop_!" Thor cried.

"Not until I'm dead," Loki answered, with another weak attempt at a magical burst.

"Okay, this is just getting pathetic," the Man of Iron said, lowering his arms. Loki stared at him, enraged. Tony shrugged. "What? I'm not going waste firepower and tear up my own property even more on a non-threat like you." Loki snarled and hurled a handful of gravel at him, which bounced off fairly harmlessly. Tony raised one eyebrow. "Ow," he offered.

"Don't antagonize him," Thor commanded, lowering Mjolnir and stepping forward. He knelt at his brother's side. "Loki?"

"Kill me," Loki whispered.

"Brother, I'm not going to-" Thor lurched out of the way as Loki stabbed at him with what Thor dearly hoped was the last of his hidden knives. He grabbed his brother's wrist with his free hand. "Brother-" A bolt of magic seared into his hand, and he cursed. Loki was completely feral, as Thor had never seen him before. He slammed his hand onto his brother's chest. "Loki, _sleep,_ " he shouted, pouring power into the command. It was the only Standard Spell he had ever managed to learn, and he certainly didn't use it very often, but it worked. Loki stopped struggling and fell back, senseless. Thor sighed, thinking. He heard his friends muttering behind him, but paid them no heed. What was he to do now? There was a slight movement under his hand, which Thor registered as probably his friends nudging Loki. Checking to see if he really was unconscious. Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't just keep Loki asleep forever...

"Uh...Thor?" Thor grunted softly, acknowledging Hawkeye's address but in no mood to engage with the mortals at the moment. "Thor, is his leg _supposed_ to fall off?"

"What?" He turned around to see all of his friends staring at Loki's left boot, which had rolled over away from his leg.

The Hulk was shrinking, turning rapidly back into a pale and panicked Dr. Banner. "Jesus, I broke him," he squeaked.

"It's not your fault," Lady Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

"And he deserved it," Tony commented.

"No, no, no, no..." Thor mumbled, grabbing the boot, which buckled at his touch with the soft whimper of fading magic. Everyone stopped and stared again at the boot dangling from Thor's suddenly numb fingers. It was empty. Thor dropped it and seized Loki's limp leg, yanking up the black fabric. A wave of nausea took him as he exposed the old, infected wound where Loki's leg ended just below the knee. The amputation was messy and obviously untreated. Jagged bones protruded from the stump, the surrounding muscle half torn away, the remnant swollen with inflammation. The skin was red and weepy but had already grown to cover the raw edges of the wound. It no longer bled.

"What the _hell,_ " Tony said, turning his face away in disgust.

"That's _old_ ," Natasha said in disbelief, rather unnecessarily in Thor's opinion. Heart pounding in his chest, turned back to his brother's face. His fingers burst easily through the mask; even Loki could not maintain a tactile illusion whilst unconscious. Loki's thin-featured face fell apart in a showering of green shards to reveal a sallow victim of starvation. Thor could see every one of his poor brother's facial bones.

"I thought he looked sick," Captain America said quietly. He had knelt on Loki's other side and was watching their fallen enemy worriedly. He looked up at Thor. "What does it mean?"

Thor shook his head. He had no idea how this could have happened. Resolutely, he passed a hand down his brother's body, unraveling the illusion Loki had wrapped around himself. His clothes almost fell apart at his touch. He felt something wet, and his face fell as he realized what it meant. Loki had been using his magic to literally hold himself together. And Thor had just undone the knots with a command and a touch of his hand. Swiftly, he tore open Loki's shirt, revealing another _horrible_ old wound. But this one _was_ bleeding, because his meddling had just reopened it. "Norns help us," he breathed. It looked like Loki had been gutted, ripped open from sternum to below his navel. A few large, sloppy, loose stitches held discolored muscles somewhat closed at the bottom of the wound, but not near enough, and a few had broken open. The fragile skin had been burned at some point and was bleeding again. And the wound smelled fetid. He looked up desperately at Steve, eyes watering. " _What do I do?"_

Steve's eyes widened. He gestured frantically. "You're the god, here, Thor! Can't _you_ do something...magical?"

" _No!_ I don't know _how_! Loki was always the one who..." He took a gasping breath. "I don't have the skill."

"Will those wounds actually kill him?" Natasha asked coldly from above.

"Well, _duh,"_ Tony yelled.

She waved an arm. "If that were you or me, Stark, it wouldn't be a question. But he's made it this far and managed to fight all of us to a standstill with his guts hanging out. So, is he actually going to die or not, Thor?"

Thor shuddered. "In time, yes, if things are left as they are. But it will be slow, maybe weeks, and _agonizing..."_

"Then we have time to see what we're dealing with," Steve said decisively.

"Stark has a medical research lab downstairs," Clint volunteered.

"I don't remember telling you about that," Tony muttered. Clint shrugged.

"I've got him, Thor. Lead the way, Barton," Steve ordered, lifting Loki up gracefully. Thor followed, watching his brother nervously for any change. Everyone trailed out of the wreckage after them.

 **Author's Note: this is a pretty short, brutal story, and I intend to publish it fairly rapidly, maybe updating multiple times a day even. It's basically done already. I was just taking a break from the other thing I'm working on, a _Chronicles of Narnia_ fic centered on the Witch and the origins of the Stone Table... for whatever reason, it's just way easier to write Loki whump than craft a more carefully interwoven and hopefully meaningful story. Fair warning to people who don't actually like reading stories that feature a very unfortunate Loki (what are you _doing_ here?), things really don't lighten up. He just hit bottom and stays there.**


	2. Chapter 2

All six of them peered at the computer screen together, trying to make sense of the CT images, although Thor also kept glancing back to where Loki lay on a work table.

"Okay, what is this _supposed_ to look like?" Captain America finally asked.

"Left and right are flipped, so..." Dr. Banner began, then furrowed his brow. He turned to Thor. "Does Loki have basically the same internal anatomy as a human?" Thor nodded warily. He found the "CT slices" rather disorienting compared to Asgardian diagnostic imaging and really had no idea what he was looking at. "Okay, so... yeah. Left and right are flipped..."

"Where's his left lung?" Clint interrupted. The others looked at him, then back at the screen. He rolled his eyes at them and pointed. "Honestly, you don't need eagle vision to notice there's a great, gaping hole in the screen where his lung should be..."

"Oh..." Tony said, turning a little green as he looked at the image again. Thor flew back over to Loki, yanked his coat off, and peeled back a few more layers to reveal another bloody wound in the side of his chest, completely dividing two of his lower ribs. A bit of blood and pus dripped onto the floor. Natasha snatched up a pen cam from the desk and ran over as well, directing the instrument to look around the wound. Sure enough, an image lit up the screen of the inside of Loki's ribcage, light bouncing eerily with the beating of his heart. The lung was completely gone, its parent vessels tied off. Again, the wound was clearly old from the level of inflammation, but not as old as the others. Maybe a week or two. The sac around the heart was also torn open, and a round mark like a burn visible on the muscle itself.

"Excuse me," Tony muttered, before running to the corner and puking his guts out.

"Okay..." Steve said faintly. "See what else you can figure out from this, Barton, Dr. Banner. And Tony, once you're done retching. Actually no, Tony, you take a break and get a handle on Fury, run him in circles, keep him distracted for a bit. The rest of us are going to start cleaning this up."

In an hour, Loki was thoroughly bathed, his wounds washed and bandaged by Captain America and the Black Widow, and he was tucked into a bed, Thor's sleeping spell still holding him tightly. Now they were assembled again to hear Hawkeye's report.

"It's not a matter of what we found, but what we _didn't_ ," he began. He raised a sheaf of papers. "Look, here's a set of normal CT images. Now, Loki's head looks fine except for one itty bitty bruise. We already know about the missing lung. The other one looks okay. But look at _this_. His spleen is gone, and so is the kidney on that side. Over half of his liver and the gallbladder are gone. There's a bunch of..." he consulted his notes, "'mesenteric fat' that's gone too, at least that's what it looks like to me. His, um, _genitals_ are gone. And look, there's chunks of muscle missing from both arms and his good leg too. I bet you found scars there?" Captain America nodded grimly.

Thor pressed his fists into his eyes. This was unimaginable. He had come thinking Loki mad, but his brother had been _mutilated_. There was no other word for it. Someone had done this to his little brother and made him into a tortured puppet. It was unthinkable. _Loki..._ Tears welled, and it started to rain. It was only when his friends yelped in annoyance and the lights flickered off that he realized what he was doing. "Sorry," he choked, clamping down on his power. The indoor rain stopped, and the electronics sputtered on again.

" _Fjandinn_."

Thor looked up at the soft hiss and grabbed his hammer. "Oops." He'd been so flustered, he'd shut off the sleeping spell along with the rain. But Loki wasn't readying for another attack. He was just lying there, looking tired and defeated.

The team edged forward. "What does ' _fjandinn'_ mean?" Tony whispered.

"It's an expletive," Thor said shortly.

" _Really..._ so what's it _mean?_ Is it a really, really bad word, or just a little bad?"

"Shut up, Tony," Hawkeye said.

Thor ignored the byplay and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Loki?"

Eyes opened. "Hello, Thor."

"Loki, can you heal yourself?" He shrugged disinterestedly. "You _have_ to heal yourself!"

"Why?"

"Because I can't, you idiot!" Thor cried. "You'll die if you don't do something, and you'll only die faster if we try to travel to the healers in Asgard!"

"Good," came the soft reply.

" _What?"_

 _"_ I told you to kill me earlier," he said, eyes closing again. He smiled softly though his expression quickly reverted to a subtle token of pain.

Thor stepped back, staring at him aghast. Loki ignored them all. "Loki, what were you doing here?" he asked at last.

Loki arched one eyebrow. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, dammit," Cint barked.

Loki grinned wickedly. "Trying to take over the world."

"Bullshit," Tony said. "If that were true, you wouldn't be so happy you've lost."

Loki flinched, and Thor realized the Man of Iron was right. "What were you doing here?" he repeated.

Loki sighed, though the deep breath seemed to hurt him, and he opened his eyes again. "There are _many_ ways to take over this world. I chose the method most likely to yield the desired results."

"That doesn't answer the question," Thor said.

Natasha interrupted, "So, what were the desired results then?"

Loki regarded her. "I elected to be dramatic to draw all of Midgard's greatest champions into the fight early so they could be eliminated early, maximizing my chances of an early, astounding victory," he said carefully.

"Oh, and what were the odds you calculated?"

He shrugged. "Forty percent. Thirty percent if Thor or others of Asgard showed up."

"Not a good plan," Tony said succinctly. Loki flashed him a smile.

"I'm sure you broke the odds down further than winning and losing though," Natasha mused.

"Thirty to forty percent chance of my early, astounding victory. Twenty percent chance of protracted, how do you say, _Phyrric_ victory. Thirty to forty percent chance of devastating defeat, depending on whether Thor showed up. And ten percent chance of the current predicament," he rattled off bitterly.

Natasha studied him. "The current predicament being a devastating defeat for your forces, but one where you survived," she said shrewdly. "What odds did you lay on surviving in the event of your Pyrrhic victory?"

He looked away, but a grudging smirk played about his lips. "Half." Natasha nodded once.

"You _bastard_ ," Tony shouted as the blood drained from his face. He tried to slap the god, but Steve stopped him.

"Do not lay a hand on my brother!" Thor thundered.

"He tried to pull a suicide by cop! And _we're_ the cops!" Tony cried. "Right, Reindeer Games?" Loki ignored him, glaring at the sheets. "People _died,_ you sick, twisted, evil... Well, next time why don't you call in a favor from an executioner? Or just off yourself if that's what you want and leave us out of it!"

"I had no _choice_!" Loki shouted back, finally irritated enough to argue the point.

"And why the hell not?" Clint butted in, equally affronted at all of this, given his personal involvement.

Loki looked him in the eyes. "The compulsion is stronger the closer you can get it to the heart." That's all he said, but Clint seemed to deflate at the words.

The others stared at them. Suddenly, Tony touched the arc reactor under his shirt, and said, "Oh." Thor looked at him, wondering what new hell a fresh revelation would bring. "He was controlled too. That scar on his heart we saw. They used the staff on him first, like what happened to Clint but way worse. I was only safe when he tried it on me because he was trying to go through the arc reactor."

Loki looked revolted. "You looked inside my _chest_?"

"Hey, you should be immune to body horror by now, Reindeer Games." Tony winced at the defeated god's _fair enough_ expression, but continued, "Anyways, I'd say Hulk's totally off the hook now, Brucie. The pounding probably broke the curse." He turned back to the patient consideringly. "You convinced your...controller to go along with your completely and utterly reckless, _brilliant_ plan because you promised you could give him what _he_ wanted: a swift victory. But you still left yourself a fifty-fifty for _your_ goal: death. I'll admit. It wasn't a bad plan after all, for a mind-controlled puppet. I'm still mad at you though." The rest of the Avengers nodded in unison.

Thor picked up Loki's hand, drawing his brother's eyes up. "Loki, is the Man of Iron correct?" Slowly, the Trickster nodded without even a hint of guile. Thor bellowed in grief. "And this...controller who ensnared you with that gem... did he also...?" Thor gestured to his brother's terrible injuries.

"Who else?"

"How? _Why?_ " Thor sobbed.

Loki pulled his hand away distastefully. "I was a prisoner, you oaf. I was captured when I was weakened in the Void after falling from the Bifrost and lost my leg trying to fight them off. I was a prisoner for months as they tried to wear me down. They only used the stone as a last resort when I refused to break. As for the rest, well, _everyone_ in the outskirts of civilization is starving. They eat most of their prisoners in the end. You might even say I was lucky, since the Other wanted me whole enough to fight and only let them harvest 'nonessentials.'"

The thudding of Thor's heart in his ears almost blocked out the distant sound of the Man of Iron's renewed retching. He laid a hand over the bandage on his brother's belly. "You mean...?"

"They _ate_ him?" Dr. Banner gasped in disgust.

Loki's eyes didn't leave Thor's even as Clint and Natasha herded Banner from the room before he could Hulk out again. "I'll never be whole again, Thor. Now please, _please_ kill me so I don't have to continue to rot slowly."

Thor looked down, gathering his thoughts. Stalling. He could not bear the pain in Loki's eyes, but he _really_ could not bear the thought of losing Loki _again_ , now that his innocence...in this matter, at least...had been revealed. "Loki, you may not...be whole...but the pain will go if you are healed. I... well, would it not be better to be healed, and live, brother?"

Loki lurched up from the bed and grabbed a fistful of his cape, pulling Thor's face within an inch of his own suddenly wrathful visage. "I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER, you- you _imbecile!_ Did you think I fell from the Bifrost as some pathetic _accident?_ No! I chose to _die_ then and was extremely upset when that failed to happen. Now, what exactly about my _current_ circumstances makes you think I would choose differently? Hmm? You vile, bug-brained idiot!" He let go with a shove. His eyes flitted to Captain Rogers and he snapped his fingers imperiously and pointed. "You, my good Captain, would _you_ be so kind as to make the arrangements for my final demise? Perhaps get your government to assist?"

"No, Loki," Thor said forcefully, placing both hands on his brother's thin shoulders. The remaining humans edged back, none too eager to get involved in the dispute.

"Thor-"

"That is not his place. They are not your enemy to kill you. They are not your family to carry out such wishes."

"Well, since I _have_ no family, that's beside the-"

"YOU WERE MOURNED!" Thor bellowed, silencing Loki at last. Thor sighed. "I mourned you. Mother mourned. Father mourned. Even Sif and the Warriors Three came to me in private, expressing their regrets over the loss of your friendship, your humor. But because of your crimes and the absence of a defense, our grief could not be official. Your colleagues at the Sorcerous Academy publicly grudged your loss and had to be sanctioned, though Father's judgment was certainly light there." Tony and Steve finally left the room entirely, shutting the door behind them. Thor was glad they were gone, and shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts. "We still love you, Loki. But I understand...some wounds are too great to bear a thousand years."

 _"Thank you-"_

"But it's not my place either," Thor interrupted, raising a hand to forestall Loki's glower. "You received your injuries in battle with a terrible opponent. If you choose to die from them, it is an honorable death. But the way I see it, if you will not take vengeance on his life for yourself, you have a duty to pass on as is only proper. You must come with me to Asgard and name your attacker before the Allfather. You must complete the Final Boast of your struggle and designate a successor. I would, of course, be honored if you chose me, dear brother." Thor grinned as Loki rolled his eyes and glowered at him. "Only then may you ask for the Allfather to free your soul."

"Ugh. It would be faster, easier, and far less painful if you would allow me to skip the ceremonies and just kill me now."

"No," Thor said firmly. "You _are_ a prince of Asgard, brother, even if you don't want to be one anymore. You will _walk_ to your doom proudly with your head held high, or I will sit here and watch you die a slow and degrading death where no one else but Heimdall may see your shame. You owe that to your family, at least."

Loki cocked his head, a sullen grin growing. "You've grown crueller, Thor," he commented. "And I _should_ be insulted that you think it a shame to die as a butchered starveling, but I lost my shame along with everything else." His grin widened as Thor winced. "But I see your point. I will go with you to Asgard and bring my desire to the Allfather. But you must lend me your strength if you want me to arrive in more or less one piece; the Tesseract will be an even less forgiving transport than the Bifrost."

Wordlessly, Thor held out a hand, electricity snapping along his fingers. Loki took it, the electricity flowing smoothly into green fire. The bandages burned away. The leg and belly wound mended into ragged red scars, still weeping serous fluid but no longer pus. The bony corners of Loki's body smoothed under a new, thin layer of muscle and fat. Slowly, the dark maw in his side stiffened and narrowed as rough new skin formed along the edges, but it failed to close entirely before the stream of magic abruptly shut off, leaving both gods gasping from the effort.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You're weaker than you used to be, Thor."

"Only because I had to ward off your invasion earlier."

"Fair enough. We should be able to leave on the morrow."

"Sounds good. Until then, _sleep."_ Thor smiled at his brother's brief, affronted expression before the command claimed him again. It seemed he had held back exactly the correct amount of power. He got up and stretched. He needed to find his friends and tell them what had been decided. And eat. Norns, was he hungry. And find Loki something too, he thought guiltily, since Loki would surely be even hungrier... He also needed a distraction from the deep despair still threatening him. He had only delayed his brother's suicide after all, not averted it.

 **Author's Note: Stay tuned for another installment, possibly this evening.**


	3. Chapter 3

All of Asgard waited for the Allfather to speak as the final echoes of Loki's voice faded into silence. Even the younger prince's most bitter political opponents had listened to his words, sharing in the collective horror of the gathered Aesir, feeling the ache of the Trickster's weighty losses. It wasn't a Boast, really, but a angry paean to a life that had been utterly destroyed in multitudinous ways. Loki had not returned for a perfunctory description of the grievances wrought by his most recent foe. No, he had skewered the culture that raised him and brought him to his fall. He named Asgard as murderer, and the fateful Other the demon who tortured him at the whim of a greater Devil. To Loki, this life was already over, this ceremony a gruesome farce with the sole purpose of bringing about his vengeance from beyond the grave.

"And who do you name your final enemy, Loki?" Odin softly asked.

Loki straightened. "Thanos, the Mad Titan."

Odin's one eye widened. "Impossible. He died a thousand years ago."

"Did Heimdall See it?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Yet I tell you, I saw him. I felt his hand violating my body, tearing my lung from my chest, gripping my heart in his fist. He smiled as he did it, and smiled as his minions staunched the blood that flowed afterwards. I felt his mind press upon mine with a command I could not refuse, powered by an Infinity Stone. The Mad Titan _is_ my foe."

The blood drained from Odin's face, and he turned aside. "Thor! You said nothing of another Infinity Stone in your report!"

"Um...I do not know what an Infinity Stone is?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "It was inside the staff, fool." He paused. "You left it on Midgard with your friends, didn't you." Thor blushed. It wasn't a question. "Nevermind. Allfather, there was indeed a second stone, which Thanos used on me before placing it into the staff which I then used to extend his commands to various Midgardians. It's probably safe enough for now with Thor's friends, so please worry about it _later_. Now, I have named my enemy. I wish to pass on my feud to another, under Asgardian law."

"Would you die before vengeance is served?"

"I would."

Odin's eyes flickered again to Thor, then to Frigga. He stepped forward and said in a low, quiet voice, "If I agree to this, I think you shall never have your vengeance, Loki. You forget you are alone in this, condemned for treason a year ago when you were presumed dead. If you nominate Thor, or anyone else, to take your feud, your avenger shall act alone. I cannot mobilize Asgard against the Titan for the sake of a dishonored outcast, so the Titan will win. Thor would be killed as well." His voice dropped even further. "But, if I do _not_ agree to your request, that changes things. We have heard your testimony. You can be contrite. I can be merciful, declaring your suffering as due justice from the Norns. _And_ I can declare your enslavement and the attack against Midgard a violation of the Peace of the Realms, and just cause to mobilize fully against him, regardless of the whims of my Council."

Loki regarded him. "You would deny me death and relief?"

"I would grant you full revenge, my son, and a chance to strike the final blow yourself."

"I don't _care_ about that anymore," Loki hissed desperately. "I just want to be _gone_."

"But you will care, once the time is right. You are my son, Loki. I know you, and I love you, though there is a wall between us now. Give me a year. If Thanos' head is not yours by then, I promise I will free your soul myself if you wish it, my own law be damned. And if Thanos' death is not enough to assuage your hurt, you will at least have the honorable end of a true warrior that you deserve."

A snarl twisted Loki's lips, but he finally seemed to give in. "Fine. Conniver." He took a single step away from the Allfather and looked up, resentful eyes focused on the window behind the king.

Odin ignored his son's discontent. At least Thor and Frigga would be happy, and there was a chance... He raised his voice. "I do not grant you the end you desire, Loki of Asgard. You were a prince and fell through your own mistakes and trespasses. Yet for those sins, it would seem you have paid in full, in injury and in degradation. Asgard will not then offer further punishment, but neither do we grant you favorable relief from your feud. Your vengeance is your own by rights, and you must seek it yourself as long as you are able. Yet your testimony regarding the Titan is itself significant, and I believe it. It seems we have a common enemy, for Thanos' enslavement of your mind and assault upon Midgard is against my own edicts as King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms." He looked around his court, the older ministers looking grimly resolute, the younger warriors bursting with eager expectation. Everyone knew already what he would say next. "Asgard is now at war with the Mad Titan. The Last Titan. See that he is found and killed. I expect his head to adorn my castle within the year. Make it so." The Allfather turned and ascended the steps to his throne. There was no need for further command. Asgardians were professional warriors. Each knew their appointed tasks. It would take a little while, but Heimdall would find Thanos soon enough, now that he was looking, and the sons of Odin could take it from there. He buried a sigh in his beard. He just hoped Loki would find a reason to live again in the meantime.

 **Author's Note: I said it didn't really get better, didn't I? See you tomorrow for several short chapters. Also, I'm lazy and not bothering with chapter names. Feel free to suggest some, if that annoys you.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Open it," Queen Frigga said, sitting with her son on the balcony of the royal suite and gently poking him with the rather large present she had had made for him.

"Later, maybe," Loki said, not even looking at her. He was uniquely uninterested in, well, anything, since he had returned. He spent most of his time lounging in his room, at least, if the healers and Thor left him alone.

"Now, Loki."

He turned around, one eyebrow raised. He took the package and slowly opened it. He looked up at her, expression guarded. "Alright, what is it?"

Nonplussed, the queen lifted up the false leg. "I commissioned it from the dwarves of Nidavellir. It will integrate seamlessly with your magic. You'll have full mobility. It's light but incredibly durable." She looked pointedly at the empty boot crumpled beneath his severed leg. "You won't have to maintain it and drain yourself."

Loki sighed, but Frigga chose to take that as an acceptance of the gift. "And the other?"

She smiled. "Now _that_ is a work of art. Revolutionary. The artisan was very excited to work on the challenge." She laid a hand on his back, causing him to jump. "I know you still struggle from this injury, my darling. I see you gasping and clutching your chest every time you exert yourself. This will help. It's an artificial lung. It will take a little time and magic to implant properly, but eventually..."

"I'll breathe freely again." Frigga smiled. Loki had picked up the delicate device and was studying it in some amazement. It was currently completely collapsed, so it was quite small, but it was easy to see how blood vessels could grow into the netlike architecture and how the whole thing could function just like the original organ. "This is wondrous," he murmured, running long fingers over the silver metal.

"I'm glad you like it," Frigga said.

A bark of laughter. "How could I not like it? Who would reject even a partial cure?" His gaze flickered briefly to her. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, darling." Loki didn't answer, but he took the prosthetic leg from her and affixed it to his stump. He smiled slightly as the false ankle flexed a moment later. Frigga was content. It was a start.

 **Author's Note: not much to say. You are welcome to leave reviews, and of course, check out my other fics. There are two more about Loki...**


	5. Chapter 5

"My king, I have news."

"Thanos?"

"He is found."

The Allfather smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you, Heimdall. Keep track of his movements, and we shall prepare for the assault."

"My king, I believe he aims again for Midgard, and the Infinity Stones still in the humans' possession there. And he means to attack soon; that is the only reason I was able to find him, I think."

Odin's face fell. "I would have preferred to take him in the Void where he could cause no harm to innocents. But no matter, Thor and Loki will go ahead to warn the humans." He paused. "And not just the Avengers. I will inform the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth and ask her to aid in alerting all of the planet's most powerful warriors. They must not suffer another massive assault."

"This one will be larger than before," Heimdall commented as he turned back to his vigil.

"I know. All the more important to prepare a good defense. Asgard will be ready as well."

"Yes, my king."

 **Author's Note: *crickets***


	6. Chapter 6

After three days of fighting that ranged all around the world, Thanos was finally cornered. Forewarned and heavily armed, Earth's heroes had managed to protect the two Infinity Stones in their custody.

(Thor and Loki were rather surprised to discover the Sorcerer Supreme had one as well, the Time Stone).

Without augmentation from the stones, Thanos' army had gradually succumbed to Midgard's natives and the Asgardian coalition, while Thor and the Avengers pursued the Titan himself. Now he was pinned against a forcefield powered by vibranium, which was a formidable barrier even to the Titan.

(Thor and the Avengers were very surprised when the Sorcerer Supreme had advised them to enlist the help of the tiny African nation of Wakanda, but it seemed the Sorcerer Supreme had an enduring relationship with the Black Panther. Or at least, had very good records and possibly spied on the world writ large. Loki was just surprised to discover that the Sorcerer Supreme he had known in passing for a couple centuries had suddenly, and recently, been replaced by some relatively young man).

With Thanos' back to the impenetrable wall, the Hulk held one arm and Thor the other, with a little help from the Warriors Three and Sif. Matched war rhinoceri anchored the whips and chains looped around the Titan's legs. All the other Avengers labored to maintain the bindings on one leg, while the Black Panther and what really looked like half of his court held the other. Loki stood with the Sorcerer Supreme watching the struggle pensively. Together, they had already leeched the Titan of much of his magical strength over the past few days of the chase, but there was still at least one nasty curse shifting dully under Thanos' skin. Doctor Strange slowly stepped forward, but Loki stopped him.

"You'll die if you try to finish him," he said.

"And you won't?" Strange asked sarcastically.

"Hopefully," Loki said, though it was unclear what he meant by that. He drew a knife from his back that thinned and lengthened into a deadly-sharp shortsword, its cutting edge reinforced with magic.

Thanos bared his teeth. "Come cripple, all of this, and you'll let me kill you after all?" Thor yanked on his arm, but the Mad Titan didn't even seem to notice.

"Hopefully," Loki whispered, and struck, sword whistling into his enemy's exposed neck. As soon as the blade made contact with purple skin, the shadow beneath burst forth, racing up Loki's sword and into his hands. A wall of green flame rushed to meet it, exploding into magical incandescence too bright to look at. Then with a _snick_ , it was over. The head fell off, leaving only Loki holding a partially melted sword in completely charred hands. He sank to one knee, face expressionless.

"Loki..." Thor began worriedly.

"Pull," the younger brother ordered. The Hulk needed no further urging. He ripped a purple limb clean off, a simple matter now that the muscles were slack and the magical reinforcements banished.

As the others worked on quartering the Titan's corpse, ending him for good, Strange came up behind Loki. "Let me see," he said gently. Loki looked up at him, pale face still blank. "I was a real doctor, once," Strange offered, showing his own brutally scarred and tremulous hands. Loki's lips curled. He pulled his hands apart. The sword hilt fell with a clatter, taking most of his blacked fingers with it as little fragments of charcoal. "Jesus!" Strange squeaked, then steeled himself to reach out.

Loki let the human examine the injury, but it was clear there would be no real healing from it. His hands were gone, just like his leg.

" _Loki!_ Your hands..." Thor shouted as he came over.

The others were slowly gathering in a loose circle too, but Loki ignored them, fixated on Thor. "It doesn't matter," he muttered. The world was shifting before his eyes, and his heart was racing. He seemed to be going into shock, which was unusual for him.

"Of course it matters!"

"No. No it doesn't. Thor, I'm ready. Take me to Odin."

Thor stopped cold, and the other Asgardians nearby stiffened. They knew what he meant. Tears welled in Thor's eyes. "Loki, _no_..." he pleaded.

"Yes," Loki said stubbornly. "I've waited long enough. It's time." His body sagged a little, though he kept his maimed hands carefully elevated. They were excruciating. He began a slow murmur, the language quickly taken up by the Warriors Three and other nearby Asgardians to become a rhythmic chant in an ancient, guttural language that must have sounded utterly alien to the gathered humans. It was a death chant, beseeching the Norns and the Allfather for passage to paradise.

Thor gripped Loki's shoulders and hugged him fiercely. He was still shaking his head when he said, grudgingly, "Alright. You're right. But first you're getting well enough to walk with your head up."

Loki stopped his muttering and rolled his slightly glazed eyes. "Thor, not that again."

"Yes. You will be honored, brother, and properly this time. I swear it."

"I don't care," Loki sighed.

"But I do. And everyone else will agree with me." Behind him, the Warriors Three nodded quickly, though Fandral and Volstagg both looked a little queasy as they stared at Loki's fresh injuries more closely. "Please, Brother."

"You're mean," Loki said eventually. He tapped Thor's shoulder with his chin. "Help me up." Thor just picked him up, allowing the prosthetic leg to lie in the dirt where it had first fallen. Loki really had used up his whole well of power instinctually (and a little unwillingly, truth be told) warding off the Titan's last curse; a lesser sorcerer would have been thoroughly dead.

"Someone grab that," Thor said. "Can we stay with you for a bit, your highness?" He directed this question to the Black Panther, who wordlessly gestured towards the one undamaged flier that could take them into the heart of Wakanda. "Thank you!"

"You're not my brother," Loki slurred petulantly as they left. Thor just grinned.

 **Author's Note: Sorry.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Wow, what _is_ that?" Princess Shuri exclaimed. She was staring in fascination at the image of Loki's heart and lungs displayed above the medical table. The left lung, specifically, which appeared as a fine silver thing in the hologram, completely different from the surrounding tissues.

"A gift from our mother," Thor answered. "An artificial lung commissioned from the dwarves of Nidavellir, the greatest craftsmen in all the Realms."

" _Awesome!_ That's really incredible! But what's it made of? And, like, how? I mean," she pressed a few buttons to magnify the image, showing delicate blood vessels seamlessly married into the artificial framework. "It's so perfectly made. But it's not vibranium. I didn't think any other material could do something like this...I wouldn't have thought vibranium could do this either, though."

"The alloy is a carefully guarded Nidavellan secret, as is the crafting process," Loki supplied faintly. "But it is a marvel, I grant you."

Shuri's enthusiastic smile faded as the display slowly shifted and she glimpsed some of the other damage he had endured, but she dutifully finished her basic internal scan before turning the device to Loki's hands. After a moment, she just looked down. Thor realized how young she was, watching her. She had not seen violence like this before.

"Anything salvageable?" Doctor Strange asked quietly. Shuri jumped and started babbling nervously about how to interpret the scan. Strange waited patiently, nodding along and studying the images himself. "So no," he concluded.

"No."

"By your science," Thor said. He looked down at Loki. "Can you do anything, Brother?"

"It's not worth it," Loki said.

"Yes it _is,_ " Thor insisted. "You will return to Asgard as whole as possible for your Triumph."

"It's his decision, Thor," Strange said gently.

"I'd stay out of it if I were you, Sorcerer," Loki said tiredly.

"He's already decided to kill himself," Thor grumbled. "The least I can do is make sure it's done right."

"What?" Shuri asked. "Really?" Loki nodded once. "Why?"

"Look at me, human!" he gasped. "Would _you_ want to go on for a thousand years in this condition?"

"Look at yourself! Yes, you've been hurt, but you still do _magic!_ You have that amazing lung, and I've seen your foot too. With tech like that, you'll function just as well as you ever did before!"

"You know next to nothing about me, human."

"Shuri."

"Mortal."

" _Shuri!_ "

"Shuri, that's enough," came another voice from behind them. Prince T'Challa stepped out of the shadows. "Do not annoy our guests, sister. They are tired. Your inappropriate argument can wait."

"You weren't listening long enough then, big brother."

"But I was, and I say this should wait. Father wishes to meet with them, but after a rest. The battle was long and difficult for everyone, after all."

"Very well," Shuri grumbled, stalking back towards her main lab.

Prince T'Challa turned to Thor. "I would be pleased to escort both of you to more comfortable chambers, Princes of Asgard. And you, Sorcerer Supreme."

"Thank you, but we shall remain here for a time," Strange said before either Thor or Loki could answer. He was rummaging around in Shuri's supply cabinet for more basic medical supplies.

T'Challa shrugged. "Very well. I shall return for you in a few hours." He left.

Doctor Strange returned to the table with a collection of curettes and gauze plus a water basin and arranged his prizes near Loki's left hand. He drew a small, orange circle in the air and pulled a pair of glasses with extra magnifiers out of a desk on the other side, probably a few thousand miles away. He set the glasses on his nose then pulled on some rubber gloves and picked up Loki's hand, studying the burn intently. He looked up at his patient. "If you do something to heal yourself, what's the very most you can potentially reclaim?"

Loki cocked his head to one side, and his eyes narrowed. A thin green line slashed diagonally across the bottom of his wrist.

Strange's eyebrows shot up. "That much?" Lokik shrugged. Carefully, Dr. Strange dipped some gauze into the water and started to wash the burn. "Stop me if this hurts too much," he said.

Loki snorted. "I don't feel anything below the elbow."

"Hmm. Is it alright if Thor does the other side?" Loki nodded, though his eyebrows quirked at his brother. Strange grinned. "I'll be sure to keep him on track." Another snort.

Slowly, the loose char flaked off, leaving Loki's arms looking even worse than before, blackened bone exposed halfway up the forearm and weeping red muscle with tattered red skin up over the elbow. Loki was biting his lip to hold back his screams by the time they finished, but he was able to relax again as Dr. Strange wrapped both arms in wet gauze to the wrist. There was nothing to do about the hands, unfortunately, except chip off the cracked, dead bone to make a clean and firm surface to secure the ends of the bandages.

The three ate and drank a little and rested another hour afterwards, Thor and Strange commandeering a couple empty medical beds, before Prince T'Challa returned with the Black Panther himself.

 **Author's Note: Out of cheese error. Redo from Start.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Good morning, Prince Loki. My sister has a gift for you. And I have breakfast."

Loki looked at them listlessly from his seat by the window and nodded. He had spent most of yesterday and this morning engrossed in the view, observing the everyday life in the streets below his window. Thor wasn't sure why, since his brother had never been one for simple "people watching" before.

Beaming, Shuri strode into the room and proffered a thin package. Loki looked at Thor, who grimaced and took the gift for him, unwrapping the cloth envelope to reveal a small disc of dark metal. Loki leaned over to look at it, then looked quizzically at Shuri. "It's for your leg," she explained. "I noticed you weren't much using your truly amazing and excellent and _I-want-one_ prosthetic, since even that amount of magical energy costs you while you're healing, the Sorcerer Supreme said. So I made this to help. It's a vibranium device programmed to serve as an interface for you, bind the leg on more efficiently. Try it. Try it!"

"Thank you, Princess," Thor said instantly, picking up the Nidavellan foot.

"You're holding Shuri's present upside down, Thor," Loki commented softly after a moment of watching Thor tap it expectantly against the prosthetic.

"Oh." Thor flipped the disc over, and it instantly seemed to reach out towards the dwarven device. Loki shifted his leg, and Thor brought the foot level with it. Again, the vibranium guided a perfect alignment, marrying the living and artificial limbs instantly. They all watched as Loki moved his ankle around.

"It will still need your magic for fine movement, and for sensation," Shuri said, "But it won't fall off, and with practice, you might be able to get some movement without any magical power. The program should train itself to any nerve endings it can sense..." She trailed off with a satisfied smile.

Loki smiled back, politely. "Thank you."

Prince T'Challa cleared his throat and set down the breakfast tray on the low table between Thor and Loki. Loki watched as Thor lifted the covers on the various dishes, but he shook his head when Thor tried to give him a bite of sweet bread. Thor suspected he was still somewhat embarrassed to eat around these mortals, given his current helplessness. He was much better alone, or with some of the Avengers, since they had seen him even worse than this. "Ahh..." T'Challa began,"You have the respect of Wakanda, Prince Loki, and you are honored among our people. However, we would ask that the vibranium... please have Thor return it to Wakanda if you decide to go through with... the ritual."

"And please donate your body to me, I mean to science, too," Shuri added.

Loki nodded at T'Challa but pointedly ignored the sister. "You will have the vibranium."

Thor grimaced. His thoughts turned from the civil conversation. Of all his human friends, the Wakandans were surely the most accepting of Loki's intent to ask his father to kill him once he returned to Asgard. They did not entirely agree with it, but they understood that such was an acceptable choice in Asgardian culture. They respected the cultural difference. In truth, the Wakandans with their simple tolerance of Loki's decision were far more supportive than Thor felt. He was angry at Loki for giving up, and he was angry at himself for being angry at Loki. But it was intolerable that Loki just did not _want_ to get better. Oh, he wanted a balm for the pain from his burns, and he seemed to appreciate this latest gift from Princess Shuri, but he had little interest in trying to become again the man he once was. Thor argued with him about it daily, and Loki always ended the argument with the same desolate statement: that man was already dead. Loki was just a shell waiting to break at last. Too much had happened for him to recover, even if his broken body could be substantially rehabilitated. Thor did not have the words to argue with Loki's silver tongue. But he could still try to make Loki better and hope his brother would come around on his own.

With renewed determination, he seized a handful of berries from the laden breakfast tray and shoved a couple into Loki's open mouth. Loki half-choked but managed to swallow and glared at him. "Thor, what the hell?" Shuri giggled.

Thor shrugged uneasily. He hadn't really thought this through and had almost forgotten the others were here. "You need to eat, Brother," he said sheepishly.

Loki rolled his eyes. Without warning, a bowl of milk flew up and dumped itself over Thor's head. Shuri giggled again. "And you need a bath," Loki snarled. "Go away."

"But..." he gestured to the breakfast tray and Loki's useless arms. "You need-"

"I _don't_ need you, Thor! If you're that worried, go find someone else to hover over me for the morning."

"I'll stay," Shuri offered. She rather seemed to like Loki, now that their initial argument was set aside.

"There you go, then. Now, run along, Thor."

Before he could object further, T'Challa clapped him on the shoulder and ushered the Thunderer from the room. "Come, Prince Thor," T'Challa said as they exited. "Shuri will manage your brother for you."

"It is my responsibility," Thor muttered under his breath.

"But Loki does not want you there all the time," T'Challa admonished.

"He needs me... And I _should_ be with him as much as possible, now..."

"He'll still die despite you, Thor," T'Challa said softly. "He'll die _to_ spite you, unless I miss my mark."

Thor eyed him. "What do you mean?"

"Your brother does not only seek his death because of his physical injuries. He has admitted those can be overcome. But though his body heals, and his mind remains sound, he will remain broken in spirit. From what you have told me, that injury began with you, not with Thanos, though Thanos assuredly made it infinitely worse with his torments. As hard as you cling to Loki, he will continue to push you away. You must have empathy for your brother, which is purely selfless, not just sympathy, which in you is also selfish: what hurts him hurts you, but in a different way. You must learn to feel as he feels before you have a hope of changing his mind."

Thor stared at him and nodded slowly. He understood perfectly what the young prince meant, and he wondered how the mortal could be so wise, when his life was but the blink of an eye to one of the Aesir. "You are right. I see it." He shook his head. "And you should not have to teach me to deal with my own brother. I have been a blind bull for centuries. How did you learn this, Prince T'Challa?"

The prince smiled and gestured for Thor to walk with him onto the rooftop garden. "My father is a wise ruler. He always taught that the greatest task as king is to hear the words of the people and to understand. Only with that understanding can one make decisions on their behalf."

"My father is the God of Wisdom," Thor said wryly. "But I am a poor listener and never learned anything useful until Loki turned against us and forced me to."

"You have leaned on him all your life," T'Challa said. "That is well. I lean on Shuri, for she works miracles with vibranium, and she is my best friend. But I am the one who will become Black Panther. Therefore, I must push myself harder."

"You are a better prince than I. I had no rivals, at least not in the skills valued in Asgard. It made me arrogant."

T'Challa touched his shoulder again. "Yet you are bettering yourself, Prince Thor. A truly arrogant man does not think of himself as such. You flatter me now, I think, and eventually, you will become the prince you want to be. Now, go wash the milk from your hair and then try to be friends with your brother, not just his nursemaid."

Thor grinned. "I will."

 **Author's Note: mellonmellonmellon**


	9. Chapter 9

The Man of Iron set down the lunch tray with a clatter that startled Loki from his reverie. Thor was, surprisingly, still absent. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Thor's busy sending the Asgardians back to, well, Asgard, now that most of the cleanup here is done. My company has a handle on things in the US of A, after all. So he's doing that, and then we're getting ready to go back to New York, so Cap's running around like a headless chicken too, dithering over all the secrecy agreements the Wakandas are forcing on us, so I said I'd take care of your lunch."

"Oh?"

"Oh, indeed. Now, here comes the airplane!" Stark scooped up a spoonful of spiced soup and made an irritating whining noise as he guided it towards Loki's mouth. Loki leaned back in disgust.

"I'm definitely not hungry," he protested, just as his stomach started growling.

"Uh-huh. Yep. Sure." Stark picked up a cracker in his other hand and continued his onslaught.

"Stark, stop it!" Loki raised his bandaged arms before his face, wincing as the slight movement reopened cracks in the healing tissue. Stark pulled back guiltily as soon as he saw Loki's expression.

"Sorry." Loki glared at him. "I'm really sorry. I can't always help being annoying." Loki snorted. "Okay, I can, but the temptation was too strong." Loki rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're a great conversationalist," Stark said brightly. Finally, Loki grinned. Perfectly politely, Stark offered him the cup of fruit juice. Loki, still irritated, seized it with his magic, mentally slapping the human's hand away as he guided it to his lips to take a drink. "Ow," Stark said lightly, grinning. "What do you need me for if you're just going to do that?" he whined.

Loki sighed. "I don't _need_ the help. Thor's just making me conserve as much magical energy as possible for healing. It's annoying."

"He loves you," the human commented as he buttered a slice of bread.

"It's annoying," Loki agreed.

"Well, we are all still kinda hoping you'll change your mind about offing yourself once you're more healed. Thor especially."

Loki sighed. " _Why?_ You humans at least should hate me. You certainly shouldn't _care._ "

"You give us too little credit, Reindeer Games. We are perfectly capable of understanding your position and that New York et cetera wasn't your fault, feeling sympathy for you, _and_ imagining how awesome it would be if you could get on with your life and keep teasing Thor and otherwise enjoy your mischief-making for another thousand years." Loki's eyebrows rose slightly. Stark grinned. "I think Thor's a bit annoying too, you know." He offered Loki a bite of bread, which he graciously accepted. "Anyways, death's so final. I know some places allow euthanasia now for horrible medical problems and whatever, but it's harder for us to really get behind that when we know you know you're going to get better, at least somewhat."

Loki shifted his arms uncomfortably. " _Somewhat_ is not much, in my case."

"With all due respect, that's bull."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard." Stark offered him some more bread. "Even crippled, you're an astounding specimen, Loki. You fought toe to toe with all of us while holding yourself together with nothing but your own stubbornness."

"That would mean something if you were more of a challenge," Loki muttered cuttingly.

Stark ignored him and continued, "You've got the Queen of Asgard buying you new body parts that the chief scientist of Wakanda is drooling over." He grinned. "I would be drooling too, if I were less dignified." He used the soup spoon to draw a smiley face in the butter on the next slice of bread. "Sure," he shrugged, "hands are probably harder than feet, but even I could make you something usable if someone else doesn't. Heck, I'll even promise to make you some, if you like." He started feeding Loki the soup again. "Your situation objectively sucks. Like, really, _really_ sucks, but you're lucky you have the support you do. There are plenty of folks who don't have what you do and keep going anyways."

"Oh? How many cannibals do you have on Earth lately? _I was eaten alive,_ Stark. I _watched_ as they harvested what they wanted and cast raw scraps to other prisoners! I even drank a broth made from my own bones!"

"Eww."

"It tasted a lot better than half-rancid stewed Chitauri."

"Again, eww. Did you have to tell me that while you're eating? Anyways, what I meant is that humans don't heal like you do, and we get hurt way more easily. There's a lot of amputees out there who live pretty much normal lives, even star athletes, even without the tech you have access to. I'm not trying to minimize what happened to you. I know there's a lot more to your injuries than day-to-day function. I know there's a _lot_ more to it than what we can see from looking at you. I get that. I have my own PTSD, again not on your level. But humans get by. We heal. You're a _god._ You can to, if you want to."

"Would _you_ want to live like this for a few millennia? In pain, crippled and childless, with macabre memories that shock you from sleep? Would the others you speak about?"

A shrug. "I don't know. I'm not you, and I'm not them. I've always been pretty screwed up, so maybe I would off myself, but I've also always been pretty egotistical, so maybe I wouldn't because of that. But I like to think I would at least try living and see how good I can get it before making a really radical and _permanent_ decision, you know?"

Loki shook his head. "I've done that for a year already, Stark. I don't want to do that year again. Time won't heal me."

"You sure about that?"

Loki slurped the last spoonful of soup but didn't answer. The human didn't press him, and they finished the meal in silence.

 **Author's Note: As there have been several high-profile suicides recently, may I just say, if you are struggling with depression and thoughts of suicide, please talk to your doctor, or call emergency services or the suicide prevention hotline at** **1-800-273-8255. There are online chat options as well. There are people who love you and who will miss you and who will be hurt if you hurt yourself. There are better answers to whatever trial you are facing, so don't be afraid to ask for help to find them. And if you are afraid for someone else, you can be the one to reach out for professional help. You are not alone.**


	10. Chapter 10

They arrived in the Avengers Tower in New York City only to find a gaggle of dwarves inhabiting Stark's penthouse sitting room. The dwarves climbed to their feet, and Thor strode forward and to greet their leader with a short bow. He was very old, with long gray hair held severely back from his face in a clip. His beard was intricately braided and knotted to redirect the strands back over his shoulders. His bushy eyebrows were also braided into his hair. His three sons were very easy to identify, as they all shared their father's prominent pointed ears, bright eyes, and narrow nose. The sons and the other younger member of the group who clutched a briefcase and sketchbook all wore their dark hair in spectacularly elaborate constructions, a sign of status, actually, and the crafting skill of the household. The whole group was attired in deceptively simple work clothes, but the quality was such as could only be seen among royalty and the wealthy houses of Nidavellir. Thor smiled and said formally, "Brother, may I present Ulric Mimmeson, Master of the House of Naibur, together with his three sons and Chief Assistant Artisan Bolli Bollason. Master Ulric, my brother Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Magic, Lies, and Mischief. Also I should present my human friends, our host Master Anthony Stark the Man of Iron, Captain Steven Rogers of America, the Sorcerer Supreme of Midgard Doctor Stephen Strange, Lady Natasha Romanoff the Black Widow, Doctor Bruce Banner, and Master Clinton Barton, called Hawkeye. They are among Earth's mightiest heroes and fought bravely in the battles of-"

"Yes, yes, good job with the formalities, Prince Thor," Ulric said in a surprisingly high voice as he swept passed to bow deeply before beslinged Loki, who nodded back. "You highness," he murmured. "We of Nidavellir are overjoyed at your conquest of Thanos, and the defeat of his armies at the hands of your allies. The Mad Titan had injured us greatly in the past, and so we honor you."

"Master Ulric. I should thank you for your wondrous works. They have served me well."

"But of course! They were my own design! A marvelous challenge, yes, marvelous. I am only glad to be able to claim some small pride in your glorious revenge." He snapped his fingers, and one of his sons handed him a stethoscope immediately. Without even asking, he propelled Loki into the nearest chair then reached up and started listening around on Loki's chest. "Beautiful," he murmured. He passed a hand over Loki's ribs, and an image of the artificial lung flashed into being and was gone. Ulric beamed contentedly. Then he snatched up Loki's false leg, examining it closely with an impressive set of spectacles he could probably adjust to microscopic magnification- another of his sons had exchanged it for the stethoscope. Loki smirked at the humans' bemused expressions, and even Thor grinned. Nidavellans were a somewhat curious race, it must be admitted, very proud and very single-minded when it came to their work. As the master smith who had created Loki's prosthetics, Master Ulric likely saw Loki more as an avatar for his creations than a living, breathing creature. Although Nidavellans were also congenitally fascinated with status, and receiving personal commissions from Asgardian royalty was no small thing in their society.

"Where did you get this?" Ulric suddenly asked excitedly, fingering Princess Shuri's vibranium disc. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "It's quite ingenious! I thought about designing something similar originally, but those pinching, dictatorial-" he rattled off a bewildering series of epithets in his own language- "wouldn't approve the order for so much, um... Bolli! What's the Americanian word I'm looking for? Upsidasium? Unobtanium? Omnipropositium? Valoritium? Here, this stuff-" with another unrepeatable Nidavellan word, he yanked his assistant forward to examine the disc. Bolli scratched his beard thoughtfully, but didn't answer.

"Vibranium?" Captain Rogers supplied as he sat down on a couch, smiling slightly.

"Yes, that's the one! Now, where did you get it, highness?"

Loki smiled faintly. "It was a gift following the battle with Thanos."

Ulric glowered suddenly. "It wasn't Dvallik of the House of Nun, was it? I swear, if he sabotaged me just so he could swoop in and-"

"Peace," Loki laughed. "It was not Dvallik. It was the daughter of one of my allies. More I cannot say."

"Ah!" His expression turned very savvy. "Is this woman available? I would give her any of my unmarried sons. Or daughters! Or simply adopt her into the House of Naibur, I suppose..."

"Shuri's family might have other plans for her," Thor observed.

"Shuri, is it?"

"Thor, you shall give away all the secrets we are sworn to protect. Master Ulric, I will convey your generous offer to the lady, or Thor will, but that is all I may do for you. Now, what other business have you here today?"

"Ah. A proposal." He snapped his fingers again, and Bolli eased forward with his papers. He opened the sketchbook with a flourish. "Hands!" the master cried. "I, Master Ulric Mimmeson of Naibur, shall craft you the most dexterous set of hands you could possibly desire! I set the whole House working on the designs and materials as soon as we heard what happened." Loki looked at him askance. He certainly hadn't told them, and Thor surely should not have broadcast the news to all and sundry. "The Queen contacted us," Ulric assured him. He sifted through the sketchbook. "Now, these will be different from the leg. The area isn't fully healed, so these can be fixed implants rather than appended, done before you go home so that dratted Bifrost doesn't interfere with the site preparation. I think you'll find them much easier to use, much more natural, especially if grafted onto the nervous system directly..." He snapped his fingers again, and his sons zoomed forward and began taking detailed measurements of Loki's stumpy arms, using their own handheld scanning devices to examine every tissue layer in minute detail and muttering dimensions to Bolli, who was furiously recording everything in a notebook.

After a moment, Loki interrupted Ulric's prattling. "Frigga must have told you, Master Ulric, that I intend to complete the Final Boast and ask the Allfather to grant me the Peace of Valhalla upon my return to Asgard."

Ulric huffed into his beard, but the other dwarves continued their activities. "Yes, I know. I wish you wouldn't."

"If you were even to finish in time, your work would see limited use, I'm afraid."

Ulric rolled his eyes. "Of course we will be on time. We can be finished within days, if we must, and don't try to tell me an Asgardian farewell ceremony could be completed before I'm done, even if you left tonight! I've sat through them before. Plus, I've heard rumors I'm not the only off-worlder planning to pay my respects. Trust me, it's going to take at least a week before everyone who wants to show up and say 'thank you very much' has done so."

Loki raised an eyebrow and glanced at Thor, who nodded, looking a little guilty. So, Thor was trying to turn this into a Triumph, rather than a farewell. He should have guessed. But he smiled at Ulric. "I take it a week's worth of advertising is still enough to satisfy you?"

"Well, I'd _prefer_ a thousand years of lording your patronage over that nitwit Dvallik, but a week displaying _my_ work before all the lords of the Nine Realms 'ain't too shabby' as the humans say."

"I see your point."

"And," Ulric said mischievously, "if my hands don't persuade you not to kill yourself, nothing will."

"Convince Thor of that, and I might even delay my death an extra week, just for you."

"Your will be _done,_ your highness!" Ulric shouted excitedly. "Bolli! Are you finished yet? Then come on! We have work to do!" He whirled around and grabbed Thor's hand, practically dragging him from the room. "Your highness! Other highness! Prince Thor, if you would be so kind as to escort us out and help get your gatekeeper's attention, I _must_ show you my designs! You will be astounded..."

"See you later, Thor," Loki called after them, with an evil grin.

The sudden silence as the door thudded closed again was rather shocking. Agent Barton cleared his throat. "Are they always like that? So energetic and..."

"Perky?" Dr. Banner suggested, at the same time Agent Romanoff said "pushy?", Captain America said "happy?", Stark said "hilarious?", and Doctor Strange said "weird."

"Mmm...yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. You get used to them." Lady Natasha snorted. Loki ignored her.

"Are they really going to make you new hands?" Strange asked, voice filled with genuine wonder and a touch of wistfulness.

"I expect so. Ulric is an artist and a businessman. Creating new hands for someone like me is something that hasn't really been done before. He sees it as a challenge, and as a business opportunity. He'll gain a lot of prestige among his people, and that is probably more important in the long run than the actual price of the commission. That fame will endure even if I don't..."

Loki listened to himself speak as if detached. His voice was without emotion, merely supplying information to his companions. Loki realized he truly wasn't excited about the prospect of new hands, though it also did not upset him. They simply didn't matter to him. Loki felt nothing but the call of oblivion. Everything else was just a barrier to peace, a final hurdle to overcome, not an alternate road. But Ulric had left sketches to review and approve, and Loki had no doubt the King and Queen of Asgard would be perfectly willing to delay the ceremonies if a gift like this was known to be waiting in the wings. He would have to cooperate. "Now then, gentlemen, lady, I believe I must call upon the talents of our good Doctor Strange, in private conference. We must reconsider the plan for the next few days in light of Master Ulric's demands."

Stark shrugged. "Let me know if you need anything. A lab, supplies, whatever. Loki, Pepper said you're going in the suite across from Thor. It's right down the hall and to the left..." He trailed off as Strange lazily opened a glowing orange portal to take the two sorcerers directly into the suite and Loki directed the wad of papers to float through onto the waiting desk. "Or you could just do that." He gestured to the other Avengers. "Come on, gang. I vote icecream before the actual government employees have to split."

 **Author's Note: Did you know they make 5000-piece puzzles of the Sistine Chapel ceiling?**


	11. Chapter 11

It was the morning of the third day in New York, and things were settling down, much to Thor's and his friends' satisfaction and Loki's indifference. He did just as little here as he did in Wakanda, after all. His burns healed just as slowly. Dr. Strange still cleaned and rebandaged them every day, for all the good it would do. It was hard to regenerate muscle when the tendons were basically gone and the underlying bone mostly dead, and Loki was entirely willing to give up on the pointless exercise. Even Thor seemed ready to concede the point; he appeared to be spacing out his lengthy visits more rather than hovering, possibly in the hopes of seeing measurable progress if he stayed away long enough. Not that an hour or two was going to gain him anything, Loki thought disparagingly.

He looked around as the Man of Iron entered the room, with an unusually coy look on his face. "Hey, Rudolf," he began, and paused. Loki nodded in acknowledgement of the address but said nothing else. He didn't particularly care what the human had to say and would certainly not be bothered if he failed to say it. "How are you feeling?"

Loki snorted. He loathed small talk. "Why do you ask?"

"Um...I was wondering if you'd be up to meeting some people."

"I'm not going anywhere," Loki said shortly.

"Um, right. Well, I have some friends who would like to talk to you, if you'll let them."

"Are they sycophantic idiots?"

"No!"

"Then do as you please."

"...Okay. Hey, Fred, you can come in," he called. He fidgeted as three figures entered the room.

Loki raised his eyebrows at the newcomers. The man in the lead was fairly young and walked on a long false leg. The leg swung out to the side as he walked, since the simple prosthetic did not appear to include a knee. The other two men were both in wheelchairs, and Captain Rogers was pushing one, as the poor unfortunate lacked both arms and legs. Loki could not even guess his age through the burn scars covering his face and bald scalp. His mouth was a deformed hole, and his nose and one eye were reduced to an unusable mass of scarring. "What are you doing here?" he asked the group at large.

"I've known Tony for awhile," the Limbless One said easily, voice surprisingly bright, though his words were rather slurred. He was clearly unable to produce certain consonants. "He told me about you, said you were having a hard time of it, asked if I could get some of my 'handicapped buddies' to come chat with you." His lips quirked as Tony blushed slightly. "I told him he was a tactless monster, but I'd see what I could do."

Loki smiled slightly himself, liking the damaged human instantly. "I see. I take it Stark recruited you into his little campaign to make me 'see the light' and realize things aren't so bad and might even be sunshine and roses."

"Well, none of us had anything better to do today," the One-Legged Man said as he flopped into a nearby armchair. "It's a weekday. Fred and Andrew are both on permanent disability, and I'm a stay-at-home-dad. Kid's are at school, and the guys needed a ride, so... Anyways, I'm Mike. This one's Andrew-" he slapped the back of the heretofore silent middle-aged man in the second wheelchair- "And Fred is the cranky old fart who invited us along. Nice to meet you. You're Loki?"

Loki nodded.

"I recognized you from TV," Andrew commented. Loki looked at him, but didn't say anything. As far as he knew, the only television broadcast of him was probably last year, and not particularly favorable. He studied the man, trying to decide if he was expected to respond, but Andrew's face was unusually closed. His upper half appeared powerfully built, and he had maneuvered his manual chair on his own. He was only missing one foot, almost at the ankle, but both legs looked weak and shriveled.

A thought occurred to him. "Were you injured in the attack last year?" he asked carefully.

Andrew burst out laughing, and Fred chuckled as well. "No," Andrew assured him. "None of us were. None of our close friends and families either, believe it or not. And Tony's explained everything. We're good, honestly. No, I lost the use of my legs when a mine went off in Desert Storm. Broke my back, and debris crushed my foot. My mates had to cut me out to get me to the evac team."

"I see. Desert Storm?"

"That was a war about twenty, twenty-five years ago," Stark supplied from the couch. He turned to Captain Rogers sitting next to him. "We told you about that one, didn't we?"

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Since that war was closely related to several current conflicts, the _government_ debriefed me, yes. I wouldn't trust your grasp of history to fill me in anyways, Stark."

"Good thinking, Cap," Fred cackled. "I first met him in AA, which he dropped out of. He's probably fried half his memory by now."

"I've cut down a lot, thank you very much, Freddy. And my brain works just fine."

"That's what they all say."

"Were you also injured in battle, Master Fred?" Loki interrupted.

"Ha! Nope. Industrial accident. Ages ago. I was just in my early twenties. It was my first _real_ job, you know? Last real job too, of course. Whole damn factory burnt down with me inside. You don't want to know how I survived."

"Hmm. You seem surprisingly chipper, given your ordeal."

Fred shrugged, which looked very strange. "You'd be surprised, kid. Sure, I thought my life was totally fucking ruined, and it kinda is. I would have liked to be normal, have my own family, a job, a house, the American Dream and all that. But for many years, I was just as much to blame for my circumstances as the accident. I let my injuries rule me. I became a shithead drunk because my family enabled me, because they couldn't bear what had happened either. But you know what? I turned around. I turned around because my sister's life fell apart the way most good girls' do. Her husband was a dickwad who cheated then walked out on the kids. She could no longer spare the time to look after me because she had to support the whole damn family, so I got to dry out in a nursing home for a few months. Then my niece started visiting me way more than she used to, because home life sucked so hard she actually _preferred_ hanging out in a shitty nursing home with a bunch of half-crazy old biddies. I won't go into the details, but I will say I finally had to suck it up and be an uncle and a brother. I was the college graduate of the family, after all. The 'smart' one. So I got off my ass, metaphorically of course, and got things sorted with my Workers' Comp and what not to go back home with full-time nursing care. The upshot being there was always someone there for the kids.

"Once I had the motivation, hell, I got a new chair I can even control myself. I got one of those voice-activated computer systems so I could help handle Sis's bills, although mine's old and kinda shitty, not all fancy like Tony's." (He twisted to glare at Tony for a moment, or at least, Loki assumed that's what he was doing, as his mangled face was truly almost impossible to read). "Anyways, the point is, yes, my life is objectively way shittier than it should have been. I can't take care of myself. I'm in pain a lot, particularly when I get open bed sores, which is pretty damn often. Physically, I simply can't get better, although I'm still always on the lookout for some cool new tech that will make coping easier. But I _am_ still a contributing member of society, and I'm very glad now that I did not either die in the fire or successfully drink myself to an early grave. I've heard you're thinking of calling it quits and taking a visit to old St. Pete. I get it, believe me. But you should know it is possible to be a pretty damn happy wisecracker even if you're as ugly and broken as me."

It really was an impressive story, Loki thought. The man was a wreck. Loki couldn't imagine what his condition must have been when he had first been burned or how long it must have taken to heal, especially given the mediocrity of Midgardian medical science. It would have been months or years before he could have regained even the marginal function he had. He had given up for a time but managed to recover himself to become a quite jovial companion. He had to hand it to Stark. This was a much better gambit than Thor's floundering attempts at persuasion. "That's quite the speech," Loki said after a moment, expressionless.

"Thanks. I worked on it for all of, oh, the last hour or so while we were coming over here."

"Indeed. One wonders what you might have managed if you _really_ prepared."

"Sis keeps telling me I should write a book. Or at least an article for _Readers Digest_. I keep telling her that people who like those inspirational self-help stories don't like them to be filled with cussing, which they certainly would be if I was writing 'em."

Stark, Andrew, and Mike all giggled. "You don't get it, Fred," Mike said, "that's _why_ you should write a whole book. You keep the first chapter or two real clean, then start dropping f-bombs every other word...they won't know what hit them!"

Fred grinned. "You might have a point there. I could go on all the potty-mouthed late-night shows and have a real blast."

Stark produced a series of high-pitched _beeps_ interspersed with apparently random words which sent the four cackling, while Loki just stared at them nonplussed and the good Captain looked vaguely constipated in his combined confusion, offense, and amusement.

 _"_ I can come back later if I am interrupting an important and sophisticated gathering," an imperious voice came from the door.

Loki looked up to see Doctor Strange, holding a tray of his evil supplies. He sighed. "No, come in, please. Gentlemen, Dr. Strange. Dr. Strange, meet Masters Andrew, Mike, and Fred, conspirators with Master Stark trying to convince me to join their convivial fraternity and write self-help books, I believe."

"Not quite," Fred hooted.

"Dr. Strange?" Mike asked, looking up attentively. His eyes widened as he studied the Sorcerer Supreme. "It _is_ you! How are you, doc? I read what happened, and... why are you wearing a cape?"

Strange stopped dead still, looking suddenly nervous for the first time since Loki had met him. "You've met before?" he asked delicately.

"Sure. He's the doc who did my operation. The grenade that took my leg off in Iraq also sent shrapnel into the rest of me, including my spine. The army surgeons did something on the field, but they had to send me to the expert- him- to get it all out. Did a good job, too. Never had any trouble afterwards, at least not with the good leg."

"I'm glad you healed so well," Strange said, making his way over to Loki's side.

"Me, too. But what happened to you, doc? You sorta fell off the face of the planet."

Loki snorted at that, but Strange answered calmly, "I had an accident of my own." He held up a trembling hand. "But I have found an...alternative career..." he shot Loki a warning glare as he snickered again. It was a marvelously vague and misleading description, after all. "But, since our paths crossed, I find I am still qualified to assist our esteemed visitor with his latest difficulties... How are you today, Loki?"

"Unchanged."

"Really." Strange reached for his arm.

"Wait." Loki turned back to his other guests. "You certainly don't have to stay for this," he told them, "but I need to keep to a schedule with cleaning and debridement, you see..."

"Shit, I've seen worse, been worse," Fred said casually.

"And we went to war," Mike said matter-of-factly, gesturing between himself and Andrew. "Can't be worse than the mess left after an IED."

Loki shrugged. They weren't wrong.

"It was pretty horrible when it first happened, though," Stark said to the Captain in a loud whisper. "Like, really, really gross. I think I stepped on a bit of his fingers."

Strange glared at them briefly and then gently unwrapped Loki's arms. He lifted one and examined it carefully to a silent audience. Loki had made progress in the week since the battle, even without assistance from Asgard. (He had refused all magical offers point-blank, quite reasonably pointing out that Asgardian resources were needed elsewhere for repair of Earth's infrastructure and caring for the numerous _fixable_ wounded). The skin was now fully restored to just below the elbow. Muscle reached halfway down the forearm, but ended in a disordered mess of soft, flimsy new scar tissue rather than tendons. The bone below it was stubbornly bare, and still looked singed with dark cracks in places. It looked almost exactly the same as yesterday. Slowly, Strange set the arm back down, pursing his lips. He met Loki's eyes. "What's the plan?" he asked finally.

Loki raised his eyebrows. "You're the doctor," he said drily.

"Yes, but this is your magic, not mine. The amount of healing you've accomplished is impressive, but nowhere near your initial estimate."

"Indeed. That was an optimistic estimate, as you recall. Per your request."

"So, are you _going_ to reclaim more bone or not? Master Ulric will need to know today."

Loki shrugged. "I suspect not."

"Ah."

"So, what will you do instead?" Mike asked, leaning over with interest. "Trim the bone back? That's what the field medics did on me." He shivered slightly and eyed Doctor Strange's tray. "Hope you've got some painkillers for him around here somewhere."

Loki smiled thinly. "Unnecessary when the bone is dead, Master Mike, but thank you for your concern. And yes, I'd say it's time."

"Are you sure?" Strange asked.

"Completely. Just don't ask Thor. It would take another week with no progress to convince him."

Strange grinned crookedly. "Truth."

"What are you going to use to make the cut?" Stark asked from the couch, where he was averting his eyes. "He's probably solid as a rock. Don't break my toys, Strange!"

Fred snickered. "Break 'em, boy! He can afford it."

Loki grinned. "I have a better idea. Why don't you use your other skills, Doctor, from your 'alternative career'? It would be much cleaner."

Strange glared at him a moment, but then looked thoughtful. "A Circle might work, but you seem to be more certain of my aim than I am."

" _I_ will judge the placement. Your task is to make a circle small enough to include only the bone."

"Mm. Good point."

"Think you can do it?"

"Probably."

"Show me."

With a last glance at his former patient leaning forward to watch, Strange shrugged and spun a delicate, orange spell-circle from his fingertips, no more than two fingerspan across.

Mike, Fred, and Andrew gasped in wonder. Loki merely asked, "Where does that go?"

Looking mildly chagrined, Strange concentrated, and a second circle appeared in the air over the work table. Nodding in satisfaction, Loki lifted his left arm and poked a naked bone through Strange's circle. The bone disappeared, only to reappear over the table. Their audience gasped again. Loki grinned and said in a mocking voice, "Now, watch closely everyone, because we're only going to do this twice!" He leaned forward until the spell circle disappeared into the cuff of matted muscle. A few specks of blood dripped onto the table from the rim of tissue around the edge of the bone.

"He's making a mess of your furniture!" Fred crowed at Stark, who still wasn't watching. "Blood everywhere! Like a horror flick! It'll take you days to scrub it!"

"I'll just make Thor do it," Stark mumbled into his hands.

Captain Rogers smiled. "If it comes to that, I'll do it."

"You really are just like your celebrity persona, Captain" Andrew commented. "I didn't believe that was actually humanly possible."

Loki ignored the banter, studying the spell with his magic, ensuring the position was correct. "Now," he ordered. Strange released the spell loop, and the severed bit of bone fell to the table with a clatter. It split along its deepest crack on impact. Loki shook his head at it. "There was no way to heal that," he said. "Again." They repeated the procedure with the other bone, reducing the left arm to a stump that ended about eight inches below the elbow.

"Give it here," Doctor Strange said, holding up a wad of gauze. He carefully staunched the bleeding, then rewrapped the whole arm. "And the other?" He spun another small spell loop, and the severed bones from the right arm soon joined the left, to Fred's whoops and Mike's soft applause. Amusingly, Strange's cape executed a small flourish. Strange scowled at it, but Loki grinned, performing his own slight bow while Strange methodically wrapped the arm. It was shorter than the left, ending only six inches below the elbow. It felt good to be done with it, though. Rather than training his magic on the impossible, Loki could focus on making the wound less painful and more presentable, and ready for Master Ulric's inventions. They would be able to return to Asgard in a few days. There would be a Boast and then feasts, but the ceremony would come swiftly. Within the week or two, it could all be over at last...

 **Author's Note: next chapter is probably the last. Go ahead and review!**


	12. Chapter 12

Steve Rogers tiptoed up the stairs, from one unhappy god to another. He hesitated in the hallway on the way to Loki's room. It seemed unfair to wake him after the ordeal today- Master Ulric had returned with his team and a surgeon from someplace called Vanaheim to implant the devices that would be the bases of his new mechanical hands, although the hands themselves would apparently only be presented once he returned to Asgard tomorrow. The master craftsman was still putting his finishing touches on them, he said. Thankfully, Thor had simply put Loki into another magical sleep for the actual surgery, but it clearly hurt like the dickens when he woke up and immediately had to work with Dr. Strange and the Vanaheim surgeon to force his mangled flesh to start growing into the graft. Steve would have thought the successful surgery would have been cause for celebration all around, but the dwarfs had quickly bowed out to return to their frantic work at home. Dr. Strange had left for drinks with the Vanaheim surgeon, their interests and arrogance clearly a perfect match for each other. Loki just seemed tired and ordered everyone else from the room, saying he needed to be alone to meditate for his "meeting with the Triumvirate." At this point, Thor, who had initially seemed very excited and hopeful, suddenly burst into tears and fled the room. The thunder god had spent the rest of the afternoon crying into the shoulder of his girlfriend, Dr. Jane Foster, who had arrived just yesterday for a visit. Steve still had no idea what the Triumvirate was, but he very much wanted to find out. He had been politely keeping out of the brothers' argument for long enough. Thor was his friend. Loki was his...friend's brother. He had a duty to help them, if he could.

Decisively, he walked to Loki's door and knocked. Light dimly shone through the crack, he noticed. Maybe he wasn't asleep after all. But Loki did not answer the knock. Carefully, he eased the door open a hair. "Loki? It's Steve. Can I come in?" No answer. He pushed the door open a little further and peeked around it. The light was actually coming from an Iron Man nightlight quite close to the door. The rest of the room was rather dim. Loki appeared to be asleep on the bed, though he had apparently tossed away all the pillows and blankets. He shivered in his sleep. Steve bit his lip, feeling a rush of sympathy. Even besides the stumpy arms, Loki just looked unhealthy. He crept forward, thinking he would at least replace the blanket. Suddenly, Loki twitched violently, though the movement of his limbs arrested almost as soon as it began. His face drew into a grimace, and his lips moved soundlessly. He twitched again, as if he struggled against invisible bonds. His jaw clenched, and Steve could hear his teeth grinding dully. Loki's breathing became fast and heavy, but he made no other sound. Slowly, Steve reached out to touch his shoulder. He took one step forward, wincing as something plastic _crunched_ under his foot in the low light. "Loki-" The god bolted upright in the bed eyes wide with fear and the memory of horrible pain. He looked ashen and ready to vomit, and Steve stumbled slightly as the broken plastic whatever-it-was suddenly yanked itself from under his foot to zoom up onto the bed. Loki stared at the useless fragments in miserable disbelief for a split second before Steve lunged for the trashcan near the bed, thrusting it into the god's lap a moment later. He pulled back Loki's hair as he emptied his stomach with shuddering heaves that went on for over a minute. Finally, he was still, resting his head on his elbow. Steve quietly moved to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth and a cup of water.

"Thank you," Loki muttered, accepting Steve's ministrations. He looked up owlishly. "What are you doing here, besides breaking my bucket?"

Steve glanced down, finally recognizing the plastic thing he'd stepped on as a Halloween candy bucket in the shape of the Iron Man helmet. And the fitted sheet covering the mattress was printed with Iron Man in an action pose as well. Looking around, he saw that the room was almost entirely decorated with Avengers merchandise, mostly Iron Man-themed, both cheap stuff and high-quality collectibles. Tony was so...strange. And so was Pepper, for letting him have a guest room like this. And so was Loki, for putting up with it. But he was letting himself get distracted. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, but we need to talk."

"Do we?" Loki sighed.

"Yes."

"You're going to try to convince me life's worth living?"

"Well...yes."

Loki sighed again. "Can you at least get rid of this first?"

"What? Oh, right." He picked up the noxious trashcan and removed it to the far side of the room. Then he paused, thinking. "You know, I've never seen you so...viscerally distraught by all of this before." Loki raised his eyebrows. "You were thrashing around before you woke up," Steve explained. "And, you know..." he gestured to the can.

Loki stared at him bleakly. "I can't control my thoughts in sleep," he said.

"Bad dreams?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"Every night."

Ah. That explained the bucket. "How long?"

Loki snorted. "Since our first encounter."

"Oh. _Our_ first encounter?"

"Technically a little later, since Thor magicked me to sleep _after_ my defeat, I suppose." At Steve's questioning look, he grinned darkly. "Nightmares are only nightmares once they become worse than waking."

This wasn't getting them anywhere. "What's the Triumvirate?" he asked.

"I'm surprised at you, Captain. You went to school. I'm from another planet, yet even I know the Triumvirate was the political alliance of Julius Ceasar, Pompey, and Crassus." Steve glared at him. "Fine, the Triumvirate I was referring to is the T _hrihyrningur_ of _thul, volva,_ and _seidman_ , holy designees of Odin tasked with conducting rituals of death for magic users in Asgard."

"I see. Look, Loki, the reason I came tonight is because of Thor." Loki said nothing. "He literally spent all afternoon crying his eyes out."

Loki looked away. "He'll get over it," he said softly.

"No, he won't. He is going to spend the rest of his very long life feeling horribly guilty, not only over what happened to you in the first place but over his inability to keep you from killing yourself. He is _never_ going to let this go. He is _always_ going to remember you and try to imagine what he could have done differently in this moment to change your mind and give you every chance to heal. He is going to lie awake and weep for you for centuries, millennia, however long you people live. He may drive himself insane for you. And the same thing is going to happen to you parents."

Loki looked at him sadly. "And you think this would be different if I remained here with them, human? Thor does not wish for me to not die. He wishes for me to get better. He would have been sad but not broken if I _had_ died on the battlefield from Thanos' last curse. But I am not _going_ to 'get better' in the way he wishes me to. Some wounds go too deep for that. Do you truly think his guilt, Odin's guilt, Frigga's guilt will be any different watching me exist as I am, for centuries, or millennia, or however long I might live? It will be a long time, you know. They will be too guilt-ridden and protective of me to send me on dangerous missions that could get me killed prematurely, and I will not have the energy or eventually the interest to demand such of them. What they _will_ do, blessed little fools that they are, is try to restore my former status, and at least the ceremonial and political roles that go along with that. They will be disappointed when I fail to deliver my former capacity, when I forget my duties or simply neglect them out of indifference. I will become a cringe-worthy embarrassment to them, due to my inability to contribute, yet one they are _still too guilt-ridden to set aside._ And that will happen, I assure you. Right now, as you observed, I am functioning relatively well. That is for two reasons. One, little is asked of me. Two, I have a purpose: to die by Odin's hand. I have held out almost a year. All I have to do is breathe for two more weeks. I can even forego sleep for that long, if necessary. And then it will be over, and I won't have to fear the night, or feel the past, or the future. Now, what would happen if this last hope was taken from me? You weren't in Asgard with us this last year, Captain. Thor was just as despairing as you see him now for the months before Heimdall located Thanos. I was exhausted and wanted to die. When you lot first rescued me, I was frustrated and lashed out, but that could not last. I became utterly apathetic, and Thor fears my apathy. He would rather I hate him than not care at all, it seems."

"The opposite of love is not hate, it is apathy," Steve interrupted softly, sinking down onto the bed beside Loki. Elie Wiesel was right. "That's what Thor is most afraid of in you, Loki. But you do still love him, don't you? And your parents?"

Loki shrugged. "I don't even know any more. I don't hate them as I did when I fell from the Bifrost. Thor annoys me sometimes, but that has always been true. But all I really _feel_ when I think of them is exhaustion. He grinned wryly. "Exhaustion, fear, frustration, and hopelessness. That about sums up my emotional repertoire at the moment."

Steve thought. "Exhaustion and frustration I can definitely understand from what I know. Maybe the hopelessness, since it's hard to feel hopeful when things have gone so wrong, even when everyone else is telling you it's got to improve. But what are you afraid of, now, Loki? Thanos and his armies are gone..."

Loki barked a laugh. "You...simpleton! I haven't been afraid of Thanos in ages. We reached the point _very_ early on where he couldn't really hurt _me_ anymore. I was already suicidal when he caught me. Every ploy the Other, his pet sadist, tried merely reduced my capacity to care about the next one- what does a leg matter when you want to die? Why does flogging matter when you've lost a leg? Why should I care about castration or evisceration when I'm dead anyways? It hurt, yes, but cooperating was not going to take all the pain away. Death would. That was my only thought, and I ignored all else with my intent contemplation of it. No...my fear is not of death or physical pain, but of having to go on like this..."

"Handicapped?"

"As I've said before, no, the physical injuries don't _really_ matter..."

"That's not what I meant. You feel handicapped by your mind." Loki looked at him. "You've always been an intellectual, sly and skilled with magic. Now, although you can still be all those things if you try, there's something else looming huge in your mind that's just overwhelming, and you feel like you can't cope with it. Every time you try to do something else, it's there waiting to pounce, like a viper wrapped around your leg when you're wanting to concentrate. You can't ignore it. You can only distract yourself. It's a mountain you feel you can't climb, so you might as well be buried under it."

Loki drew in a shaky breath. "That's it. That's it exactly. During the day I can only control it with tricks. Counting. Repeating spells in my head. Talking to people. Watching or reading. But no matter what I try, nothing lasts for long. I lose count quickly or lose my train of thought because I can't concentrate. I have to read the same sentences over and over because I'm not actually paying attention. I don't easily recall what passed in conversation or what I've observed out the window." He shook his head. "It's not like there's one particular memory or experience I can blame. There's just...too...much!" He glared into space and abruptly yawned. "And it all clamors for my attention, _all_ the time."

They sat in despondent silence for a moment, but Steve eventually spoke again, softly. "What do you know about my story, Loki?"

"Very little," he said tiredly. "You fought in a war using a serum that permanently altered your physiology and were frozen for seventy years afterwards."

Steve smiled. "That's basically right, yes. What do you know about the war, though?"

"Practically nothing. Asgard had no interest at the time."

"That figures. It was called World War II. It was the worst war this planet has ever seen. It went on for years. Your little invasion and the fight with Thanos were picnics by comparison. Cities were leveled. Millions and millions died. I found out later the war only ended when the Americans used nuclear weapons on two Japanese cities."

Loki made a small noise of surprise. "And you're the heroes?"

"Well, the nukes are still a huge ethical debate, but WWII is still widely considered the most justifiable war in modern history, from the defenders' standpoint, obviously. It's hard for most people now to imagine what it was like. I was raised in the shadow of the First World War." He laughed bitterly. "They called _that_ one 'the war to end all wars,' boy were they wrong. But I know why they thought that. WWI was so different from what came before, and so catastrophic, brutal, and senseless, there was no romanticizing it. War as it had been _was_ over. But just twenty years later, we were at it again. It seemed impossible at the time, but almost inevitable in retrospect. And it was so much worse than... anyways, the reason I bring it up is something that I learned about only briefly before I was frozen. You see, one of my last missions towards the end of the war as we were getting into Germany was leading a group liberating an internment camp. Now, just so we're clear, this wasn't a prisoner-of-war camp. Hitler, the leader of the Germans, was genocidal. Throughout the war, he was rounding up people, innocent civilians that came from different ethnic groups he didn't like, and imprisoning, enslaving, torturing, starving, and massacring them. To this day, I've never seen anything else like it. Everyone in that camp, men, women, and children, looked pretty much just as bad as you did last year. Living skeletons. There were mass graves, and random bodies rotting everywhere. The Germans had just abandoned it days before, but none of the prisoners were strong enough to leave..."

He trailed off. Loki was looking rather green and was shivering again. Steve picked up an Iron Man blanket and tucked it around his shoulders. "Sorry. Anyways, these people were so, so happy to see us coming. It was incredible. I've never seen such happiness, before or since, because we brought hope to them. It was over." He paused. "I went on my last mission just a week later and ended up getting frozen, as you know. What you don't know, what I've never told anyone, actually, was what happened when I finally woke up again. I was in my twenties in the war. Almost everyone I knew was dead and gone seventy years later. But there were several survivors of that camp, kids really, who were still around. When the news went public that I was back, theirs were the first letters I received. They remembered me. Oh, did they remember. I was Captain America delivering them from the mouth of Hell. What struck me reading those letters, though, was not the effusive thanks. It was what they told me about their lives. These were children and teenagers who grew up in utter terror, who were hurt and scarred and abused in unimaginable ways. But seventy years later, they were grand parents and great-grandparents with loving families and relaxing retirements, sending me pictures of their descendants, their houses, their pets... They healed, Loki. They got better. They _thrived_. Not everyone did, I'll grant you. Not everyone lived, and many were hurt, but I _know_ that it is possible to come back from the brink. I have seen it myself."

Tentatively, he reached an arm around Loki's narrow shoulders. It felt weird, but also necessary to make his point. Loki did not object. "I think I understand you. I don't know everything you need to heal, but the first thing is just faith. You need to believe that it's possible to get better. That's the hope you're lacking. That's what's driving your fear. Once you have a hope to live on, maybe you'll find a reason to live..."

"People come back from the brink, Captain," Loki interrupted softly. "Not the dead. I am dead."

"You are _not."_

"Everything that makes me me is."

"Oh? And what is that? Your body? No, you yourself said so. Your intelligence? Still got it. Your magic? Same. Your-"

"Shut. Up. You hear, but you do not _listen_. It is passion that is gone, human. I have no will, no drive, beyond yearning for death. I didn't even care about killing Thanos except as another barrier between me and my end. What do you want in life? Love? Honor? Fame? _Gratitude_? That's what I used to want. Now, what do I care? I have all of those. Thor loves me. He says so every day. I am honored by many, apparently famous across the worlds. Many of Thanos' former foes are 'grateful for my sacrifice.' I don't care. I want nothing."

"Yes, you do. You want to stop feeling this way, and you want to be left alone."

Loki snorted. "That's not much to live on."

"No, it's not. But it's a start. There are people who care so little they don't even care if things change...I've heard they're hard to treat, but doctors do it." Loki did not respond to this, so Steve pressed on. "I don't know, well, anything about Asgardian medicine, but down here people with depression are treated with all kinds of medicines and therapy, even something called 'electroconvulsive therapy,' which I was assured sounds way worse than it actually is... Apathy doesn't have to last forever, either. It just feels like it will."

"You think the healers in Asgard didn't try everything they could think of?" Loki asked.

"No, I'm sure they did, but I also think it's still too early to say with any certainty that you _won't_ get better. It takes a long time to get over trauma." He paused, as Loki seemed to somehow get even _more_ despondent. "You don't like the _un_ certainty, do you? You keep saying you're sure you won't get better, but you're lying, aren't you? You're not sure you won't get better. You're just sure it will be hard, and you'll have a long road of misery before you do, and you still won't be everything you were before, and it will be easier to just give up and die." With that, Loki dissolved into silent tears, leaning shamelessly on Steve's shoulder. Steve patted his back awkwardly. He was right. Now that he'd had something of a breakthrough, though, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. He just sat thinking for a few minutes, while Loki cried. Finally, he asked, "What's the hardest thing right now, Loki?"

"I don't know," Loki gulped. "Everything. Nothing. Sleeping, waking, eating, thinking, breathing...it's all hard."

"Well, it can't be all equally hard...but my money's on sleeping. I had some insomnia as a teenager, and that alone made everything else seem impossible on bad days. Is it just the dreams that make sleeping hard?

"Just?"

"You know what I mean."

"...no."

"Well, are there sleeping medicines that work on you? Or spells or something? Since you obviously need something." Loki didn't reply, but Steve answered his own question with a chuckle. "Duh, of course there is! Thor's spell thing certainly knocks you out. Is that kind of sleep restful though?"

Slowly, Loki nodded.

"Okay, good... Do you still have dreams?" Another nod. "Okay, not as good, but still, something to think about. Maybe someone else knows a way to manage both. But sleep is the first thing. Alright, now what's the hardest thing about going back to Asgard to _live?"_

"Duty," Loki said immediately.

"High expectations," Steve nodded. "So tell Odin you can't have any duties for awhile."

"He'll never agree to that," came Loki's whispered protest.

"Did he make you do, um, official things this last year?"

"...no..."

"There you go, then. Now... do you have anyone you can talk to in Asgard?" Silence. "Like we're talking?" Silence. "You need someone who you can talk to, who is there to support you and advocate for you. Not Thor, I'm guessing. Not Odin, obviously. Your mother? An old friend? A healer?" Silence. Steve sighed. "Okay, listen, I'm not saying I would be able to just be on Asgard for you, but would it help if I, or anyone here, would come along for a couple weeks to see you settled at least? Help set up boundaries?" Silence. "And you could always come back here, if you needed to get away... I'm sure your family wouldn't object if you said you needed it."

Green eyes met his. "Do you know what Thanos' secondary plan for me was?" Loki asked carefully. Steve shifted. That was not a question he was expecting. He shook his head. "If he had decided not to use the stone, and I continued to refuse to yield, or I'm sure he had the same plan in mind for my _triumphant_ return as well, then he was going to continue hold me prisoner, biding his time. Once he was ready to strike at Asgard, I would be killed, my carcass stripped of flesh and returned to the Allfather. Disgraced though I was, Thanos knew such a deed would still enrage Odin. Odin's strength is in his wisdom and foresight. If he plans ahead and thinks things through, he is inevitably victorious. But enraged, his wrath becomes rashness. Worse than Thor. Thanos would have easily destroyed Asgard." He stopped.

Steve was... confused. That was horrible, but he had no idea why it was relevant. "Why-"

"Am I telling you this? I don't know." They lapsed into silence for another moment, both trying to puzzle it out.

"Are you afraid of someone else using you in that way? That you'll be a liability as long as you're alive, especially if you're free to roam?" Steve finally asked. It was the only thing that sort of made sense.

"No. Why should I be?" Then after a moment, "yes... I don't know why."

Steve shrugged. "Fears don't have to make sense. In fact, they often don't, which makes them more frightening, often. There's no real reason for me to be afraid of spiders. But I am."

Loki grinned suddenly. "You are not."

"Am too."

"Who'd have thought."

Steve cleared his throat. " _Anyways,_ do you think that's another reason why you want to do this whole death ritual thing? To _protect_ Odin from...the risk of someone hurting you again?"

"That sounds very convoluted."

"It's okay to be convoluted."

"...Don't tell Thor," he whispered.

"I won't. These are your secrets to tell, Loki... You do still love them. All of them." It wasn't a question. He wouldn't be afraid of such an unlikely scenario if he didn't. "Do you want me to come to Asgard with you?"

"No."

"...Are you going to tell your parents about anything we've talked about?"

"I don't know."

"...Are you sure you want to go through with the... ritual?"

"...I don't know."

Steve hugged him fiercely. "Please don't do it, Loki. I know I don't have any say in the matter, but please don't. You _can_ get better. I can feel it. You _will_ get better. You will prosper, and make Master Ulric delirious with pride. You'll visit again with Thor, and we'll have a huge party with the Wakandans and Dr. Strange and maybe Stark's friends, except the party only goes on as long as you feel like it, and you get to veto any and all of Thor's and Stark's ideas. Or the party is just sitting in a quiet room listening to music, or just eating icecream, or doing puzzles, or you and Strange doing magic tricks, whatever you like... Don't die yet, Loki."

"I can't promise you that, Captain of America."

"But you _can_ promise you won't die tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. You don't have to decide now what's going to happen years in the future. You can just decide what's going to happen today."

Loki shook his head. "You misunderstand, then, Captain. If I miss this opportunity, then the window closes. I can request to die from my injuries, but only while they are fresh. I have to make the request as soon as I return home, though certain delays are inevitable along the way." His expression turned wry. "Suicide is _not_ lawful in Asgard at any other time."

"Even though you're not going to die from this without help anyways?"

"Even so."

"That's bizarre."

"That is the law."

"If it comes to that, though, do you really care about breaking the law a year from now?"

" _I_ don't, but though you might not have noticed, it is incredibly difficult to kill a magic user. It is almost impossible for one to kill himself."

"Ah." He recalled the last battle with Thanos, and Loki's apparently involuntarily defense. "I guess that makes sense, in a way. But, honestly, Loki, I don't think your family would care about breaking the law a year from now either if it meant you'd be alive for another year."

"Perhaps, but how do you suggest I hold _Thor_ to such a promise, let alone Odin?"

"Ah...I have no idea. But it's got to be worth considering. I think I understand. You don't want to be boxed in. You don't want there to be no way out. That's something you should be able to get them to understand and work out a solution." Loki made a noncommittal sound that Steve chose to take as assent. He looked at the clock, the little Hawkeye's arrows pointing to one o'clock in the morning. He reached down for the pillows and other blankets and started reconstructing the bed. "Thanks for talking with me, Loki. It's really late now, though. Is it alright if I grab Thor and have him help you to sleep?" Loki reached out an arm even as Steve stood to tuck in the ends of the bedspread.

Loki licked his lips, looking nervous for the first time since they had met. "What do you think happens when you die, Captain?" he asked at last.

Steve froze a moment, then made himself kneel back down. He had asked for this, after all, coming in and wearing the put-upon god down with his questioning. "I was raised Presbyterian," he finally said. "If you believe in Jesus and try to live righteously and ask Him for forgiveness for your failures, you'll go to heaven."

"Is that what you believe?" Loki asked shrewdly.

"Yes," Steve replied, hating the quaver of uncertainty coloring his voice. "Yes," he repeated more forcefully. Honestly, though, the knowledge of aliens like Thor and Loki had really tried his war-battered faith recently.

Loki smiled softly. "Asgard is essentially a theocracy, and the Allfather is our god, our intercessor with the Norns, the three Goddesses of Fate. The Allfather chooses those whom he sees as worthy of saving from the uncertain judgment of the Norns to journey to Valhalla and paradise. Or so we are taught."

Steve attempted a smile, but it felt off. "What do you have to worry about then? The Allfather _is_ your father."

"Adopted."

"Doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't... but I don't believe it."

"What do you believe then?" Steve asked slowly.

"I don't know," he said, curling up on his side.

"...You don't have to die." Loki didn't say anything. "I'm going to get Thor." He eased from the stifling room and just breathed for a moment in the hall. Talking with Loki was really, really hard. But he was glad he had. He glanced in Thor's room, but it was still empty. He was probably still moping in the breakfast room. Steve left in search of the Thunderer with a brisk, purposeful stride. He had definitely made progress with Loki. Giving a Thor a way to help, even if it was just sleeping spells, would help them both. He would talk with Loki again in the morning before the Asgardians finally left. And the he would hope and pray for the next few weeks, until they heard news, one way or the other.

 **Author's Note: so, this probably isn't actually the last chapter, as you might have guessed, but it will be the last for a while, because my new job is starting. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Reviews?**


	13. Chapter 13

Steve walked a few paces behind Thor and Loki as the gods moved softly through the crowd of well-wishers. Every few steps, Loki paused as another courtier, or childhood friend, or visiting dignitary came forward to shake his newly minted hand, congratulate him on his victory...stoically wish him well in the afterlife. With every interruption, Steve tried to catch up, but he just kept falling further behind as more and more aliens milled around and filled the space between them. Steve eased around a portly giant who seemed to be made of stone and looked for Loki again. His face fell. He saw Loki, but no Thor. The crowd pressed close all around the younger prince, and Loki looked back, dead in Steve's eyes. In his face, Steve saw no tiredness or sorrow, only sheer and utter terror. Yet still, admirers swarmed around him, clutching at his clothes and metal limbs, chattering their compliments, ignoring his distress...

Steve stood between the Warriors Three and a vaguely familiar portly giant who seemed to be made of stone. They stood in the third row back. Thor stood in the first row directly ahead of them. Steve was shaking in his boots, longing to be anywhere but here. On the steps before the high throne of Asgard, Loki knelt before Odin, and Odin held a long, glowing knife to his throat. Odin spoke some ritual phrase, and Loki responded. Steve could not hear either of them over the rushing in his ears. Then Odin lifted the knife, only to stab his son over and over again a moment later. Loki screamed but was soon cut off as the crowd roared its approval. Only Thor stood silent, watching with shoulders hunched. Steve felt his knees buckle. This was so, so ghastly...

Steve could see Loki, maimed and bleeding, falling, falling, falling. Another figure fell next to him through infinite space, also tall and dark haired. It was his old friend Bucky, Steve realized, his stomach turning over. Bucky was injured too, battered from war. His left arm ended in a slick shower of blood that had streamed around him like a grisly veil in the endless abyss. Ever the protector, Bucky reached out his whole arm to Loki, gathering the broken god to his side. His lips moved, though Steve couldn't hear him. Loki smiled. Another figure came into focus behind them: Agent Phil Coulson bleeding from a belly wound with his eyes closed. Behind him was another of Steve's old army buddies, who had died in a land mine explosion. And there was a woman Steve had noticed during the original Chitauri attack, her chest caved in. And there was a Wakandan warrior with not a mark on him but the unmistakable aura of death, victim of some alien weaponry that left no traces... A lake of fire like the Pit of the Book of Revelations yawned before them, and all were consumed.

 **Author's Note: Have you ever listened to the Shastakovich violin concerto No. 1? The third movement is very appropriate to this story.**


	14. Chapter 14

Steve awoke with a gasp. He blinked in disorientation at the dawn creeping through the window of his own bedroom in D.C. He passed a clammy hand down his face. It was a dream, thank heavens. He looked to the clock. It was barely past five, but he would not be sleeping anymore this morning. He rolled out of bed and trudged through the darkened apartment towards the kitchen. He blinked in surprise as he opened the door to find both Iron Man and the Black Widow sitting at his breakfast table, moodily stirring enormous cups of coffee. "Hello... What are you doing here?" he asked. _And how did you get in, since neither of you is supposed to have a key?_

Natasha looked up sharply, expression grim. Stark sighed. "I got an email from Prince T'Challa a couple hours ago," he said. "Thor was in Wakanda yesterday." He looked up at him with bleak eyes. "He was returning the vibranium device Princess Shuri made for Loki. He didn't stick around."

Steve felt numb. That could only mean one thing. Weeks had passed without news, and now... Loki was dead?

"The Wakandans thought we would like to know," Natasha commented in clipped tones.

And Thor couldn't even bring himself to visit. Steve found himself crying and didn't care. Stark got up and hugged him. After a moment, so did Natasha. Loki wasn't their friend, but his life had mattered, mattered _so much_ to all of them, and he was gone...

 **Author's Note: Hang in there, guys. It's safe to turn the page.**


	15. Chapter 15

Steve awoke with tears on his cheeks. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself from the nightmares. _It is not too late_ , he told himself sternly. _Loki still lives. At least for today._ Resolutely, he got up and brushed his teeth.

Minutes later, he had successfully dragged Stark and Thor from their beds. Both were bleary-eyed, Stark because he never got up before noon if he could help it, Thor because he likely had not slept at all the entire night. "We need to talk to Loki again, and we need to talk to Odin," Steve said firmly. "There is a way to fix this, I'm sure of it. I don't know what it is, but we'll find it. Come on, Thor, time to wake your brother up again."

 **Author's Note: I had to put my cruel fake-outs somewhere. At least I was nice enough to release them all at once with this more reassuring installment rather than sucker-punch you all multiple times, right? There will be one more chapter, which should be the last unless it gets too big and I have to split it up. I kinda doubt it's going to be anything like you're expecting, but let me know in the reviews whenever I post it (might be awhile again, sorry-I'm busy).**


	16. Chapter 16

About fifteen minutes later, Steve was feeling a lot less confident in their ability to change Loki's mind. Steve had awoken with a strange, completely unjustified certainty that they really could do something, but he was starting to think it might have been his own Captain America wishful thinking rather than something more concrete. Once Thor released him from the enchanted sleep, Loki was completely back to his testy self this morning, with absolutely no sign of his midnight vulnerability, just his enduring, sarcastic pessimism. He was now huddled on the low couch at the far end of his Avengers-themed suite, still dressed in pajamas. Thor had claimed the spot next to him. Stark was sprawled in the Inflatable Hulk chair, and Steve was pacing the carpet. On the coffee table before them perched a very large raven which Loki had reluctantly lured in with a charm and spelled to use as a kind of receiver for Odin back on Asgard.

"Do you want me to explain, Loki?" Steve asked. Loki shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but the enormous raven. Finally, he gave a curt nod."Okay..." Quickly, Steve summarized the conversation he and Loki had had last night: Loki did not want to die so much as he did not want to go on living in his current _mental_ state and saw no road to improvement in his future. He needed some _hope_ if he was to have a chance to go on living. In fact, he _was_ afraid of the ceremony. He just didn't think he had a better option. The door of death was the only one that remained open to him, all the others barred by indefinable terror or impossible hardship.

Once Steve finished, Thor seemed ready to speak up, but Odin's raven hushed him with a beady-eyed look. Then the bird froze again as the Allfather's voice emanated from its dull, unmoving beak. "I wonder...Loki, what do you hope for in death?"

"The only difference between this miserable life and the next is that one is unknown," Loki muttered bitterly. Then, a moment later, "It can't be worse."

"But you do not expect it to be better, or you would be unafraid," Odin mused "No, hush Thor... No difference... I should have seen it sooner. I'm coming down."

"What?" Thor blurted as the raven fluttered back to normal life with a low _croak_. "Here? Now?!" He ran from the room.

"Not that damn rainbow again!" Stark shouted, running after him. Odd, Steve had thought him asleep again.

He stared after them for a moment, then looked questioningly at Loki, who rolled his eyes and said softly, "All rise for the King of Asgard."

"Wait, he's actually coming _here?"_

"What did you think he meant?"

"But Thor always acts like it's impossible for the ruler of Asgard to actually leave Asgard for any period of time."

"That would be a very inefficient system of government, don't you think? Short absences are permissible. Long ones are not."

"Oh." Steve mulled that over for a minute, until a flash of light and a _whooshing_ sound out on the sitting room balcony announced Odin's arrival. Seconds later, Thor and Odin were striding back into the room, followed by a very peeved-looking Tony Stark who threw himself back into his squeaky chair in a huff. Odin made a beeline for the couch and swept Loki into a tight hug. Loki froze in surprise. Steve realized belatedly it was the first time Odin had actually seen his son since the battle, and the new, devastating injury. After a minute or two, Odin released his hold and started murmuring spells, silver magic pouring from his fingertips only to hiss into dark smoke that curled briefly around Loki before vanishing. After a moment, he nodded.

"What was that?" Loki asked. He sounded vaguely affronted, but also curious, and Odin looked suddenly guilty. Loki didn't know that magic, it occurred to Steve.

"Loki," Odin began carefully, "I am not offering you a complete cure, as that would be foolishly unrealistic, but I think I know how to help you..."

"How?" Thor asked excitedly.

Odin shifted uncomfortably, which was odd if he had discovered a way out. "Well..."

"And why didn't you or Mother Dearest or any other healer think of this marvelous treatment _last_ year?" Loki asked, voice laden with suspicion.

Odin flushed. "Well, I was the only one who might have thought of it, and, um, it's been awhile..."

"Spit it out, Allfather," Loki said with a delicate sneer.

"It is very rare for a Death Wish to become so strong as yours in someone who still retains a native fear of death. It is certainly not the natural way of these things. I...well, I think there is something else going on that makes it impossible for you to choose life. If I'm right, even were you _completely_ healed in body and mind, you would still feel the call of the veil. But we would need a Necromancer to be sure. One might be able to...correct...um..."

" _What?"_ Thor shouted, aghast. "How could one of those evil creatures _help?"_

"Necromancy is a _thing?!_ " Stark cried, completely awake again.

"I second Thor's reaction," Loki commented. "I'm not sure why you would think submitting my _animus_ to enslavement under a Necromancer would be better than taking my chances with you and the Norns...or are you admitting you're an infidel?"

Odin rolled his eyes at both his sons, looking less embarrassed and more the annoyed father. "That's not all they do."

"That's all you said they did!" Thor protested.

"And it's illegal," Loki said. "You've executed every practitioner you've caught in the last millennium. Even if any are left, why would they help you?"

"They wouldn't be helping me, they'd be helping _you..._ and I'd promise to be lenient..." Loki and Stark both snorted at that. Odin sighed. "You're right, they don't exist anymore. Asgard has been very successful at hunting them down. The art is basically extinct. But...there is one that we imprisoned, rather than executed."

Everyone else looked skeptical, but Steve was the one to ask, "And why was that, your Majesty?"

"Ah...She was too powerful. She had utter control of the border of life and death. Imprisonment was the only option..."

"Why haven't I heard of this?" Thor asked. "Was it so long ago?"

"The edict to ban necromancy isn't _that_ old," Loki said dismissively. "Barely two thousand years. I looked it up once in _The Authoritative Chronicle of Asgardian Law."_

"I'm not going to ask why," Odin said sardonically. He looked down. "Her name was stricken from all records. With good reason. Her power was too terrible." He looked up and took both sons' arms. "She was your older sister."

"There's another one?" Stark moaned.

"And she's an evil Necromancer you've imprisoned for... how long?" Steve finished. Magical gobbledegook was not what he'd had in mind for the morning...

"Probably two thousand years," Loki grunted, pulling away from Odin's grip.

"She's not evil," Odin protested. "She's just... ambitious. And unrelenting. And a little vindictive..."

"Typical Odinspawn," Stark chuckled.

"I have a sister..." Thor mumbled, tasting the words.

"And what do you expect her to do, assuming she doesn't just attack you or vanish immediately?" Steve asked, finally finding a chair.

"She won't attack first," Odin said with some certainty. "She never does. She waits until she's provoked."

"And imprisonment doesn't count as provocation?" Stark asked.

"Well...not to her. Probably. She will talk, then she will attack."

"Oh, that's so much better," Stark interjected again.

Odin glared at him. "With support, I should be able to contain her if needed. If we can enlist her aid, then she should be able to pull Loki back from the brink, as it were. By analyzing the interface of the _vekjalarbj-..._ Aahh _..._ Look, it's hard to explain if you don't have any understanding of death magic theory. But if anyone can correctly diagnose and correct, um, how do I say this: 'a tear in the veil,' it's Hela. She has the ability, I'm certain."

"Hela," Thor repeated softly, wistfully. Loki rolled his eyes at his brother, but didn't comment. He probably didn't really care at the moment what was decided on his behalf, Steve thought.

"That's not much to go on," Steve commented after a moment.

"Yeah, I mean, what's the plan? Sneak into Asgard's deepest dungeon, spring her, and hope she cooperates? Then what?"

Odin grinned. "Not at all. We shall borrow some of your fastest Midgardian transport to a small island off the coast of Greenland, where I shall open the portal to her prison dimension. Then we shall hope she cooperates, and with any luck she can join us for a family dinner in Asgard this evening. I will say we are fortunate it is summer. Else we would have to dig for her through the ice." He glanced around at all the confused and startled looks and smiled guiltily. "Midgard is a... most effective prison for powerful sorcerers and objects. Set in the very trunk of Ygddrasil, the causal nexus is particularly stable here, almost immutable except to Innates and other natural foci. Even then...er...my apologies for the jargon, Captain Rogers. Suffice it to say that Midgard has proved itself more suitable to the purpose than any other place in the Nine Realms."

Loki snorted wryly. "So that's why you sent Thor here of all places."

"Well, yes. Look, I'll explain more fully on the way, if everyone is willing...?"

Thor nodded enthusiastically. Steve met Stark's eyes, and they both shrugged. Steve was just playing things by ear at this point, since the vague magical discussion went completely over his head. Hela couldn't be worse than Thanos, at least. They could always veto the plan later. Everyone turned to look at Loki, who shook his head.

"If your dear Hela does not go along with your plans, Allfather, the results will be catastrophic, from what I've read. It's not worth it."

"Yes you _are!_ " Odin cried. "You are worth the risk, my son. And so is she. I've done wrong by her as well as you."

"Then approach her on your own time for the right reasons, Allfather. To revenge herself on you, she might attack now, or she might seem to agree and just kill me while she's rummaging around in my soul and make me into the first of a _draugr_ army that will destroy you. That's certainly what _I_ would do. I don't want you to endanger yourself and these people and all of Asgard and probably all of Midgard just to _possibly_ fix something that _might_ be making my state worse. If it's all the same, I'd rather just die in a couple weeks and save you a war, at least. Leave well enough alone."

"No, Loki," Odin said simply. Loki grimaced.

Stark cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed. "How likely is what Loki said going to happen?"

"Very unlikely," Odin growled. Thor looked uncertain, though, Steve noticed.

"Then it's settled. I'll call up Hawkeye and the Quinjet, and we can be there in a few hours... Where are we going exactly?"

 **Author's Note: indeed, the last chapter became too hefty, so I split it up a bit.**


	17. Chapter 17

The Avengers, all of them, waited nervously as the King of Asgard finally opened his interdimensional portal. Loki was not nervous. He didn't care. He didn't. They all watched as a thin figure emerged from the magical vortex. She was tall and beautiful, but also terrible, with skin as pale as snow in the mountains and eyes and hair as dark as a summer storm. She was glaring daggers at Odin. "Hello, Eyeless," she snarled.

"Hela."

"Decide you couldn't manage without me afterall?"

"Not quite."

"Sister! We need your help!" Thor announced brightly. Odin shot Thor a glare. Hela's eyes flicked to him, then to the rest of the group. Her eyes lingered briefly on Loki's truncated limbs. She frowned.

"Sister, is it? You don't look like him." She looked back at Odin. "You want my help, Allfather?" She asked sweetly. "Beg for it."

Odin glanced at Loki, then back to his daughter. "Please," he said.

"Not on your life." She drew a blade from thin air and hurled it at him. Thor immediately lunged forward and knocked it to the side. So much for waiting for provocation.

"Crap!" Iron Man shouted, as his visor slammed down. Hawkeye and the Black Widow both started firing on the goddess as Captain America took up a defensive position near Loki and Odin. Hela easily caught or deflected every arrow and bullet aimed her way and leapt towards the group, a predatory smile flirting about her lips. Thor threw his hammer, and she knocked it aside. Iron Man fired on her, but she raised a hand to disperse the energy pulse. "Crap!" he shouted again. "Mr. King? Now might be a good time to start the containing-"

He had barely finished the sentence before Loki shoved Captain America aside and directed a powerful blast towards Hela. She paused, absorbing the blow. "Loki, get back!" Thor gasped, trying to pull him back while his hammer flew straight past him into the ground. Loki repulsed him with another wave of magic, then strode forward, blasting Hela again, eyes widening with a strange desperation. This was his fight, he had decided. They were here because of him. He would either take care of the problem or die trying...both equitable options, actually. He shrugged out of Captain America's grip and poured his strength into the next blow. Incredibly, Hela just stood and took it, but she was now watching him with growing interest. She somehow _caught_ his next attack, spinning the magical power down into a brilliant green spark balanced on her hand. Loki stopped even as Odin clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder; this wasn't working.

Hela slightly raised her suddenly empty hands. "Peace," she said calmly. Confused, the humans ceased their attacks. She sauntered forwards, straight towards Loki. He waited, utterly still. She stopped mere inches from him, and stared. Her eyes saw straight through him, but he held himself still. She smiled. "You're a piece of work, aren't you? Who are you?"

"Loki of Asgard, my second son, your brother," Odin rumbled from behind him.

"Adopted," Loki muttered, out of habit as much as anything.

"Ah... My replacement, I think. How quaint. But if so, I seem to be the lucky one. Tell me, Loki second son of Odin, how did you come by this?" She touched a finger to his forehead, and a ghastly terror engulfed the grassy knoll on which they stood. The group seemed to be transported to the edge of a roaring cataract minted of a freezing fire the color of old blood. Beneath them yawned an endless abyss. Behind them, tiny and indistinct, Loki sensed the balmy breeze of Life. Far greater was the current, dragging him down. He looked around to the rest of the group, but though everyone shrank from the fearful darkness and the cold, only Loki seemed to be physically affected. The current passed by the humans' ankles with nary a ripple, but Loki was ready to topple at any moment. He looked at the abyss, the dark thing he had hitherto seen only in his half-remembered nightmares. It was real, and it was calling to him, screaming his name soundlessly. He didn't want to answer, but the thing didn't care, growing more insistent every moment. He stumbled a single step towards the fall, and the current increased. But Hela caught a hold of his arm. Loki wrenched his gaze back to her. She was studying him, still smiling, like a scholar with a new specimen.

"Take us back," he whispered.

"I haven't taken us anywhere," she answered mockingly. "You were already here. I'm just making it visible."

"Well, whatever you're doing, _stop it_ ," he hissed. He couldn't stay here. He would become insane and crumble to pieces. Already, he felt the current's insistent tugging loosening the binding of his false foot, and his chest growing tighter as the mechanics of his lung seized up. Hela cocked her head to one side, and lifted her hands away from him. They were instantly back in the real world. Loki fell to his knees, hard, though Odin caught him before he fell forward too far.

Hela knelt before him. "This is why you released me, Allfather?" She asked, never taking her eyes from Loki. "It is an interesting case, I'll grant you. But why should I help?"

"If you can save him, and agree to remain peaceful, you can be free, Hela," Odin said softly.

She grinned. "Now that I _am_ free, you won't trap me again in any case, idiot."

Loki barked a joyless laugh. "She's got you there, Allfather."

"You can come back, if you want to."

"Just don't count on having quite the same status as before," Loki commented wryly. "Believe me, I know."

"Another problem child, are we?" Hela asked.

"You could say that, I suppose, though it seems an understatement."

" _He_ is prone to understatement in these things, if I recall."

"You have a good memory."

"Will you help?" Captain America interjected.

Hela glanced at him. "Who is he?" she asked Loki.

He grinned at the Captain. "My mortal task-master for the morning, and a do-gooder."

"Ah. I suppose I might... it's been so long..." She sounded suddenly wistful. Loki could sympathize to a degree. He was a creature of magic as well and had been imprisoned for a time. Hela presumably had been unable to exercise her skills for millennia. Loki shuddered. He hoped she didn't actually _remember_ all of her imprisonment in real time.

"What was that place?" Thor asked as he came up beside them.

"The border of Life and Death," Hela answered as she seated herself more comfortably on the ground in front of Loki and brought his spell-ball back out. From the stolen strands of Loki's own magic and dark threads drawn seemingly from the air, she began to weave a kind of shroud in the emptiness between them. It was bewitching, a kind of magic Loki had never even read about before. "Normally, the border is closed within a living individual." She regarded Loki. "Even in those possessed of a Death Wish. In Loki, though, some force has ripped open the dam. Think of the river you saw as a measure of life force. In someone young and healthy, it pools on the side of Life, creating a source of energy and vitality from which the individual draws throughout life. It is replenished with things like good food and good memories. It is diminished by physical and emotional stresses. As people age, the dam wears down. The pool shrinks. Upon death, the dam bursts. The lake becomes a river and empties." She flashed a grin at Thor. "Loki is interesting. In a way, he is alive, because his body and mind are alive. His heart beats. He breathes. He thinks. He speaks. He even fights. For those of us who can see the soul though, it is clear that he is dying. As a matter of fact, I would have said you were dead, if not for the fact that you _are_ speaking and so on. You must have horribly hurt in body and mind to acquire such a tear in your soul as well. This cannot go on though. Soon enough, that current would sweep your conscious mind under, and you would truly be dead, whether you decided it or not." Her expression turned thoughtful. "I believe the human expression for it is 'vegetable.'"

"He would turn into a carrot?" Stark said snarkily.

"No, I would become comatose," Loki said. "I told you so."

"Quite. But this will help." Hela held up her completed work, an impressive veil of sparkling green on one side and shifting shadows on the other. Loki studied it skeptically. "It's basically a patch for the dam. Your magic will hold up the Life side, appropriately enough, while mine holds the Death side."

"Brilliant," Odin murmured. "I didn't know you were so skillful, Hela."

She looked at him askance. " _You_ came to _me._ "

"Yes, but I never saw you work so effectively with someone else's magic before."

She rolled her eyes. "Just because I followed you to learn fighting arts doesn't mean I never watched Frigga and the healers as well." With a final sly grin, she reached out and touched a hand to Loki's head again. The magical veil flew _through_ her arm and hand and fingers and into Loki. Loki felt like his insides had suddenly caught fire, banishing the habitual cold he had barely even noticed until now. A great pressure rose within him. If at all possible, he felt worse than before. He was so weak he could not even speak, could barely lift his eyelids. He found himself lying on the ground and couldn't figure out how he got there. He allowed his eyes to close. Maybe she had just killed him after all. Alas, and oh well. Thor would have to take care of it. Loki surrendered, listening to the beating of his heart, waiting for it to stop.

 **Author's Note: Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? Morning bells are ringing...**


	18. Chapter 18

Slowly, painfully, the pressure eased. Loki opened his eyes again to see the Allfather, Thor, Hela, and five Avengers staring down at him. Thor smiled broadly and hugged him. "Brother!" he yelled in his ear. Loki tried to shove him away but couldn't find purchase with his weak, stumpy arms and quickly gave up.

The Man of Iron looked across him towards Hela. "Well, he's not a zombie, so...you fixed him?" he asked.

She burst out laughing. "Hardly. He's still suffered a some rather awful injuries, you know. I just made it so he's not dying, at least not yet. It might not hold for long if he doesn't find the wherewithal to strengthen the patch. But that's entirely up to him." She stood up. "Now, I think my job here is done. Time to go, unless you'd like to get back to fighting. Or offer me the throne...? No, I didn't think so."

"Hela, wait!" Odin called, jumping up as well and following her towards the overlook.

"Catch me if you can, Allfather!" she laughed, before jumping off the cliff. She dissolved into darkness.

Odin cursed for about five minutes in Old Norse, staring at the space where she disappeared. Then he turned around and returned to the group, gathering Loki into another embrace. "Will you please _not_ make me kill you, Loki?" he whispered.

"I suppose," Loki muttered. "For now."

The humans burst into applause.

Beaming, Thor pulled a tired Loki to his feet. "All of Asgard is waiting for you, Brother. Let's go home!"

"If we must."

"We must," Odin confirmed, supporting Loki on his other side. "But Thor and I will be right there with you, and so will your mother. All will be well. You'll see. Avengers of Earth, our thanks." One by one, Captain America, Iron Man, the Hulk, Black Widow, and Hawkeye stepped forward to say goodbye. That done, the three Asgardians walked across the heath a little ways. Odin looked up into the sky and shouted for Heimdall. The iridescent stream that was the Bifrost slammed down around them, and they were gone back to their own world.

* * *

Tony leaned over to Natasha. "How much do you want to bet we'll be helping Thor fight his big sister by this time next year?"

" _I'll_ bet we will. How much of your considerable fortune are you laying on the line _against?"_

"Haha. None. We're totally doomed."

"Tell me about it," Clint groaned. "Why did I let you talk me into flying you all out here?"

"Because Steve asked politely," Bruce said. "And no one told Fury."

"Oh yeah, why didn't we tell him?"

"It's his day off."

Clint shuddered.

"It won't be so bad as all that," the Captain said confidently.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?"

He shrugged. "The same thing that made me sure this morning that today was the day to do something about Loki."

"Heaven help us! A true believer!" Tony said dramatically.

"But he _was_ right," Bruce pointed out.

There wasn't anything to say to that.

 **Author's Note: "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."** **-Martin Luther King, Jr.**

 **Speak up for your friends, and speak to your friends.**


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

"Shuri, what are all these things?"

"I don't know, Big Brother. They were here waiting for me when I returned from America. I was told the trunk over appeared overnight on the third staging area to the North, pushed up against the forcefield. Here, this was on the trunk."

Princess Shuri passed King T'Challa a metal tag. He read the engraving aloud, becoming more bemused as he did: " _To the Princess Shuri of Wakanda, Daughter of Panthers, Glorious Mistress of Metallurgy, Artifice, Experiment and Design, Greetings from the House of Naibur..._ Admirers, dear Sister? What is the House of Naibur?"

Shuri let out a cackle. She had just opened an envelope from the trunk and was reading the letter inside. She picked up a slim book and thrust it at her brother. He became more confused, staring at the first page, an elaborate family tree. He turned the page, to see a portrait of one Althak Ulricson, a rather squat man with elaborate braids framing his strong-featured face, pointed ears, and strangely spidery fingers. The caption included his height- _four feet seven inches?_ , weight, age- _two hundred?,_ titles, and special skills, which included metallurgy, analytical chemistry, dancing, and mastery of a musical instrument called a _bombulum._ The next page was a portrait of Pepi Ulricson- four feet five inches, age one hundred seventy- then Aud Ulricsdettir- four feet two inches, age two hundred sixty-two... He flipped through the pages. Ten portraits in all. He looked up at his sister, one eyebrow raised.

"The letter is from Althair Ulricson. He says and I quote, 'the genius of your design is admired by all of the House of Naibur, but by none so much as me. I send you these gifts, Dearest Inspiration, in hopes that you will consider a meeting of our minds, and perhaps a union of our hearts.' I think they might have picked him to write the letter because he's the tallest, if you know what I mean. Look at those portraits. They're all so shrimpy." She chuckled again and set the letter aside. "This stuff is really cool, though, T'Challa! Look at this! And _this!_ I mean, _wow!_ "

"Who are they, though?"

Shuri didn't answer right away, as she was reading another, longer letter from the same envelope. Her eyes widened. "Oh," she said, turning the page over. " _Ohh..."_

"What is it?"

"Master Ulric of the House of Naibur is the dwarf who made that leg and lung for Prince Loki of Asgard. Also new hands, it says here. I guess we did hear about that, didn't we? He was very impressed with the vibranium addition I made for Loki and wanted to get in touch sooner, but obviously couldn't since we made the Avengers and Asgardians swear to secrecy." She grinned. "But he says Althak has been tracking 'Midgardian media' ever since and caught your UN address. At least they're consistent with their story." She kept reading, then searched the envelope again. "It says he's enclosed a note from Loki as well... Aha!" She pulled out a plain white card and stared at it briefly. She looked vaguely disappointed and handed it to T'Challa.

The king laughed out loud as he read the simple words printed in ornate script on the card: _A token of my esteem._ That was it.

He passed it back to Shuri. As soon as she touched it again, Loki's voice drifted out of the air. _If I were you, I'd give them a chance, Shuri. Althak is in fact quite good on the bombulum, and he is a fantastic dancer, as is his sister Pepi._ As soon as the message ended, the blank white of the card changed, with incomprehensible math racing over the paper in rapid-fire sequence. Shuri's eyes widened, and she shrieked, "Computer, record! Record!" Seconds later, the equations stopped. Shuri jumped up and raced over to a work-desk, plunking the card down under bright light, directly under a camera lens. Anxiously, she poked at the paper. "Come on, do it again," she muttered. "T'Challa, get over here!" She grabbed his hand and pressed one finger onto the card, whooping in delight as the message and math started up again under their combined touch. "Awesome. I'll figure out what that stuff means later." She switched off the light and carefully set the card on a shelf before turning back to the rest of her trove.

"So, do you want to have a coffee date with Althak?" T'Challa drawled.

"Maybe," Shuri replied with a grin.

 **Author's Note: abadee-abadee-abadee that's all, folks!**


End file.
